


The Body Thief

by ai08



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Demon!Tony, Mild Horror, Moral Ambiguity, Murder Mystery, Neurosurgeon!Stephen, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ai08/pseuds/ai08
Summary: In order to save his career as a neurosurgeon after a terrible accident, Doctor Stephen Strange unwittingly makes a deal with a demon. A demon named Tony Stark who has been (according to him at least) wrongly accused of murder.----------“Hello, nurse,” Tony murmurs. He looks up to Stephen and gives him a small grin. “You really are gorgeous, Strange.” He tilts his head a bit. “But you already know that, hmm?” His hand tightens it’s hold and Stephen freezes, captivated by the way the soft light from the moon plays on Tony’s bottom lip, making it look soft and warm and ripe for the taking, no matter the weapons hiding beneath. Stephen is transfixed.Tony snakes his other hand around Stephen’s back, bringing them face to face. “Let me kiss you,” he whispers, nose ghosting over the line of his jaw, the tip of his lips grazing Stephen’s earlobe.





	1. It was one of those nights when you turned out the lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rolls up sleeves* wow, I am just writing IronStrange AUs now, I guess.
> 
> NB: Chapter title is "Touch Too Much" by AC/DC. Since I'm posting as I write, each chapter will be separated by different song lyrics.

Stephen looks down at his mangled hands and he knows- he knows life is no longer worth living. Not if they’ve ruined him beyond repair. He’s got to get out of here, got to get out of here and try to find a cure, find a way to fix this. He’ll do anything, he doesn’t care.

“Oh, _my_.” Suddenly there’s a man at his bedside, but the door never opened. Stephen stares at him and even though his vision is blurry from the trauma of the accident and the drugs in his system, he can see him clear as day. He’s sporting a manicured beard and a sharp black suit with a thin red tie. Stephen squints in disbelief, but he swears he sees sharp black horns protruding from his head, much longer than his styled, jet black hair. He’s shorter than Stephen, but his presence feels unbearably powerful and alluring. “That looks…” the man narrows his eyes, considering Stephen’s extensive injuries. “Pains the bad one, right?” he asks, quirking a brow and meeting Stephen’s gaze and if he wasn’t so drugged up Stephen would scream.

He doesn’t have eyes. There’s just an empty, bottomless void where his eyes should be.

“Who… are you?” Stephen finally croaks.

The man (if he’s even _that_ ) scoffs and waves a hand in the air. Are his nails… claws?

“Nope, I can’t listen to that all night,” the man says, and suddenly Stephen’s throat feels brand new.

“What the _fuck-_ ”

“You’re welcome,” the… _monster_ sing-songs. “Consider that a preview. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Get out of my room,” Stephen says, starting to panic.

The creature furrows its brows and looks down at his cell phone. “Aren’t you… Dr. Stephen Strange?” he asks, reading from the screen.

Stephen doesn’t answer.

The intruder gives the impression of rolling his eyes and looks to his phone again. “I’ve got to find a way to fix this. I’ll do anything. I don’t care,” he reads, then shows Stephen his phone. It’s a text message. It’s even from his number.

“I never sent that,” he snarls.

The ‘man’ shrugs. “Riiiight. Okay, so here’s how this works. You summon me, I give you whatever the fuck you want in exchange for a _teeny tiny_ favor, and everybody’s happy.” A pause. “More or less.”

“Oh god dammit, I’m dreaming,” Stephen says, closing his eyes and resting his head against his pillow, willing himself to wake up. When nothing happens, he opens his eyes again. Now the creature is lounging in a plush arm chair, nursing a whiskey and muttering about how glitchy mortals are.

“Any day now, Stephanie,” he drawls.

“Why are you here,” Strange demands. “Who _are_ you?”

The other man sighs. “Okaaay, we _just_ went over why I’m here, and I don’t like repeating myself,” he says lightly but his smile is tight. “So, moving on to your _second_ question.”

A black business card appears in front of Stephen’s eyes. It’s blank.

“Name’s Tony. Ruler of the underworld.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Stephen says, voice flat.

Tony grins, showing off sharp teeth. “Just a bit of humor, sweetheart,” he intones, smile stretching wider. “I’m the Devil.” He winks and it’s the creepiest thing Stephen’s ever seen. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

-

Stephen wakes with a start and quickly rubs his hands over his face, trying to shake off the nightmare. He can’t remember what it had been about, but he feels like he’s about to be sick. He feels like something terrible just happened. Or is about to happen. He gets out of bed because there’s no going back to sleep now that he’s wide awake and freaked out.

Stephen steps into the bathroom and turns on the light. There, in between the two sinks, sits a black business card. He frowns and picks it up; Stephen doesn’t remember ever seeing this before. He wonders if perhaps the housekeeper left it, but he would have noticed it sooner. He frowns and holds it up to the light.

“Hello, Dr. Strange,” a voice says behind him.

Stephen whirls around, intent on hitting whoever spoke, but no one is there.

-

-

Stephen leaves the hospital in his Huracán, intent on heading home for some well-deserved rest after working over-time. “Sweet Lambo,” a voice says beside him. “Be a shame if someone were to… completely destroy it in a near fatal accident.”

Stephen screams and nearly runs his car off the road and into pedestrians. He corrects himself at the last moment, hands shaking and face pale. The man sitting beside him howls with laughter for a moment, until he realizes how shaken up Stephen is.

Tony rolls his eyes and pouts a bit. He nods at the steering wheel and suddenly the car is being controlled by a steady, invisible force.  

“Who are you?” Stephen snaps. “How did you get in my fucking car you _freak_?”

Tony turns his head, almost unnaturally far, to look Stephen in the eyes. “Oh, you’re _real_ cute when your scared,” he says, licking the corner of his mouth. Stephen can’t help the gasp that escapes his lips when he sees his tongue is forked.

“Jesus Christ,” Stephen whispers.

Tony snorts. “Hardly.” A sigh. “You don’t remember me, huh, doc.”

Stephen, still gripping the steering wheel so tightly he can hardly feel his fingers anymore, gives a tacit yet unequivocal NO with his eyes.

Tony shrugs, almost apologetically. “That happens sometimes,” he says. “The human body isn’t the best conduit for magic.” A pause. “That’s why I never understood why mortals always insisted on sacrificing each other. But I digress.” He waves his hand to the left and the car pulls into a parking garage. “So,” he continues, crossing his legs and putting on a pair of sunglasses he didn’t have a moment ago. “Your -totally bangable, by the way- meat sack has a difficult time handling that much magic. In order to cope, it gets processed as a REM cycle and as a result, is forgotten or remembered as a dream.”

“More like a nightmare,” Stephen says. “I’ve got to be dreaming.” He’s mostly talking to himself now, looking around as the car drives itself up another level.

“Afraid not, handsome,” Tony says. “I helped you out. _Big_ time.” He grins, wide and abnormal. “And now you owe me. _Big_ time _.”_

 


	2. And everything comes into view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title "Touch Too Much" by AC/DC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I had issues with my laptop! I'm aiming for an update every other day or every third day. I'm trying to see if I can keep writing everyday. Hope you guys enjoy!

Stephen scrambles out of his car as fast as possible, intent on running as far away from this mad man as quickly as he can. Tony is one step ahead of him, though. As soon as Stephen turns to run, Tony is unexpectedly in the way.

 

“The elevator is over here, sweetheart,” Tony says, voice low and fangs gleaming in the unnatural light. Stephen, trying to stay calm, looks around wildly, but he can find no exit. “What do you want with me?” he hisses. “And what the hell _are_ you?”

Tony furrows his brows and sighs, rubbing at his temple. “Fuck, mortals are annoying,” he says under his breath. Tony gets an alert on his phone and he checks it for a moment, frowning. “Looks like we’ve got to hurry,” he says quietly. “If you’ll just come with me, I’ll explain everything. ‘Mkay?” He flashes a grin that would look handsome on a normal face. Stephen looks away. Tony frowns and purses his lips. “Alright, well, just for the record, I tried the pleasant way first,” he seems to announce to no one, shrugging.

All at once they’re standing in the middle of a lobby. Stephen notices a sign that says MetLife before he lurches forward, reeling with sudden vertigo. “Are you alright, sir?” a smartly dressed brunette asks, coming forward to help him stand. 

“What the _fuck_ did you just do?” Stephen practically screams, glaring at him.

Tony laughs. “They can’t see me, hun,” he says, clearly enjoying himself. “So, unless you want them to think you’re crazy-”

“What do you mean _they can’t see you_!?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Stop shouting. What did I just say?” Tony throws his arms up in the air. “Pepper was right. I should have thought this through.” A pause. “Oh, well,” he says, smiling again.

“…Sir? Sir, are you alright?” the woman asks. Around them, passers-by begin to linger, concerned or curious or both.

“Try to calm down,” Tony says cheerfully and then snaps his fingers.

Suddenly, the woman, as well as the people walking by, disappear. The open, well-lit corridor fades away, and in its place is a dim, narrow hallway with impossibly high ceilings. Stephen looks up, trying to see where the walls end and the ceiling begins, but he can’t.

“You’re back early,” a woman’s voice says.

Stephen lowers his gaze to stare at her and he startles, taking a step back. In front of him stands what would appear to be a normal red-headed woman, except for the third eye in the middle of her forehead.

“Good evening, Dr. Strange,” she says cordially. “I apologize for Mr. Stark’s poor manners,” she says. “He likes to be a bit dramatic.” Her gaze never leaves his, but Stephen swears her third eye is glaring at the other man. Creature. Thing. “If you’ll follow me?” she asks. “I’m Virginia, by the way. But please, call me Pepper.”

“What- where did that- the other woman- Where did she go?” Stephen asks faintly, glancing around.

“Nowhere,” Tony says lightly, beckoning for him to follow them down the hall. When he sees that his explanation isn’t enough for the doctor, he turns around and walks back toward him. “Are you familiar with the multiverse theory?” he asks seriously, as if he’s about to delve into a story but needs to know his listener’s baseline first.

Stephen, too shocked to do anything else, chooses to believe that this must be a dream, and decides to play along. He gives a small shrug. “…Sure. Vaguely,” he says.

“Great. Vaguely works,” Tony replies, clapping Stephen on the shoulder once before placing a firm hand on his back and the other at his elbow, ushering him down the hall. “And we’re _walking,”_ he says.

Stephen didn’t think they were that close to the end of the hall, but before he knows it, they’re standing in front of the doors to an old fashioned elevator car. They step inside and it heads up.

And up and up and up.

“How much time do we have?” Tony asks quietly.

“Give or take two minutes,” Pepper replies.

“Ms. Potts, I could kiss you.”

“Please don’t, sir,” she says dryly. She doesn’t look up from her phone, but her third eye rolls (presumably at Tony) before turning to stare directly at Stephen. It blinks once, slowly. He didn’t notice before, but the ice blue iris is outlined in red. Stephen shivers and quickly looks away. 

The elevator doors open into a penthouse suite with floor to ceiling windows. Outside, all you can see are the stars, bright and sharp as knives, in the endlessly deep night sky.

Stephen doesn’t remember it being that late. 

 

 

Stephen doesn’t remember what time it is at _all,_ actually.

“Seal the whole floor,” Tony tells Ms. Potts as they step into the suite. She nods and says something so softly Stephen can’t hear it. But there’s a static energy in the air for a moment and the vibrations are heady, nearly tangible. His ears pop and he winces in pain, and then everything returns to normal. 

His ear tickles and he scratches it. When he pulls his hand away, there’s a bit of blood on his fingertips. His mouth falls open in shock and Stephen suddenly decides that he has had just about _enough_ of the freaking Twilight Zone for one day, thank you very much.

“Will someone _please_ tell me what the fuck is going on?!” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest. Sheer panic is quickly being replaced with sheer _annoyance._ He has no idea what the fuck is happening, he can’t remember how he got up here, and at this point he doesn’t even know what day it is. But losing his shit isn’t going to help. And if these two circus freaks expect him to stand here quietly, they’re insane. 

The two of them suddenly hone-in on him, ceasing their conversation. 

“You’re in a parallel universe at the moment, Stephen,” Tony says slowly, exasperated, as if he’s an adult speaking to a child. “Same loaf of bread, different slice.”  
Stephen just stares at him and blinks a few times. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he asks darkly.

Even though he’s wearing heavily tinted shades, Tony gives the impression of closing his eyes and counting to ten. “Look, Stephen, we’re sort of in the middle of a, uh, delicate situation. Okay?” he says, smile tight. “I will _happily_ answer any insipid question you have just as soon as-”

“Sir,” a disembodied voice calls from the shadows. “Captain Rogers wishes to speak with you.

_“Ugh,”_ Tony says, shoulders slumping. “Tell him I died.”

“That would be pointless, sir,” the voice replies. “For you cannot be-”

“Stark, I swear, if the rumors are true, I won’t be able to help you out this time,” another voice says, speaking over the first. 

Stephen sighs and purses his lips. First, he’s seeing monsters. Now, he’s hearing voices. This is just great.

“Wow, he calls that _helping,”_ Tony says humorously. “Hear that, Pep?”

“Now isn’t the time to get into it with Rogers,” Pepper reminds him.

Tony ignores her and Stephen gets the impression that happens often when Pepper barely bats an eye as he keeps right on talking. “Last time I checked, letting the Council take away my corporal form wasn’t exactly helping. But, hey, what do I know? 

“You killed seven mortals,” Steve says, somehow managing to sound both civil and disapproving at the same time.

Stephen’s eyes widen at that and he takes a step back.

“I told you, I _didn’t_ kill them.” As if suddenly remembering Stephen, Tony turns to look at the taller man, waving his hands glibly. “We _definitely_ don’t kill mortals here,” he says. Stephen isn’t exactly placated by that statement.

“…Fine,” Steve says, sighing as if he doesn’t believe hm, but doesn’t want to fight, either. “I’m not here about that, anyway.”

“Then what do you want?” Tony asks flatly, gesturing for Stephen to sit with him and Pepper by the fireplace. He hesitates for a moment, then concedes.

“Just let me in,” Rogers asks, voice going soft. “Let me in, and we can talk about this.”

Tony snorts. “Nu-uh. _Not_ falling for that again.”

“…It’s true, isn’t it,” Rogers snaps. “You’ve taken a mortal hostage now, haven’t you.”

Tony’s shoulders tense. The fire suddenly grows, threatening to escape the hearth, before Pepper waves a hand, effectively putting out the fire as well as ending the conversation. “Jarvis, you’re not to let Rogers through, under any circumstances, alright?” she commands.

“Yes, ma’am,” the voice says.

“Well,” Tony says, sitting back and crossing his legs. “I think that went rather well.” He nods, pleased with himself. “Nice barrier work, Pep,” he comments. “Takes a lot to keep that jackass out.” He looks back to Stephen. “So, questions, comments?”

Stephen scowls and he laughs.

“Listen, there’s been a bit of a… misunderstanding,” Tony explains. “I just need your help with some things, and then you’re free to go.”

“What ‘misunderstanding’?” Stephen asks.

“Someone’s been on a bit of a killing spree and they pinned the blame on me,” Tony replies, lips pursed. “I’m under ‘house arrest’ as punishment as a result,” he scoffs. “I’ve got to find this son of a bitch before he kills again and _really_ ruins my reputation.” He laughs, as if he’s just made a big joke.

“And if I don’t want to help?” Stephen asks. His raises his chin but his stomach is churning, and his hands quiver a bit.

“Sorry Charlie, but we made a deal,” Tony replies with a ‘what can you do’ shrug. “You really don’t remember, do you?” He asks a moment later, voice thoughtful. “Pep, do the thing.”

Pepper, who sits across from Stephen continuing to work on her phone, looks at him with her third eye and seems to see directly into his mind for a split second. Stephen takes a deep breath, as if he’s just been drug out of the water, and clutches at the armchair, eyes wild and face pale. Dear god, he had driven over a cliff. He had almost _died._

“Oh, _Tony,”_ she chides, glaring at him. “Stop telling people you’re the devil.” A pause. “It’s just a little joke, Dr. Strange,” she says, attempting to placate him.  
Tony shrugs. “I may as well be,” he says with a sniff.

Stephen trembles. "N-no." He can’t believe he survived a drop like that. Oh, fuck. His stomach rolls and his fingers are starting to go numb.

“Oh, _Stephen,”_ Tony says, a parody of Pepper’s earlier chastisement. “We made a deal, remember?” he asks, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I saved your life. You really _do_ owe me.”

“How can I possible help you,” Stephen whispers. He’s trying to focus but he’s starting to feel faint and the pounding in his ears is starting to sound like waves crashing on the rocks.

“Oh, you can’t,” the other man responds. “But if this doesn’t work, I’m still going to need a body, right?” he asks, then tilts his head, assessing Stephen’s face. “And I like your beard, so.” Tony smiles.

Stephen passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone who read either of my last two fics, I FINALLY wrote a story where we can all hate on Steve. You're welcome, haha.


	3. Please allow me to introduce myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title "Sympathy for the Devil" by The Rolling Stones

 Stephen wakes up slowly. He opens his eyes a bit and stretches, savoring the feeling of the luxurious sheets he’s lying in that are _definitely not his._ Suddenly, his eyes are wide open.

Stephen sits up abruptly and looks around. He’s in a bedroom and it must belong to Stark; it’s got the same floor to ceiling windows as the main floor. Outside, it’s still pitch black. Only now, even the stars are gone.

“Mr. Stark had to step out for a moment,” a woman says from her seat on the opposite side of the bed; it’s Pepper. Stephen startles and gapes at her for a moment before scowling.

“This… really isn’t a dream,” he says.

“No, sir, it isn’t,” Pepper replies. “But I wanted you to know that-"

“So, I’m stuck here?” Stephen asks angrily.

“Dr. Strange,” Pepper replies. “Mr. Stark just needed to speak with you. This is a very urgent matter.”

“Then what was that about a hostage. And murder? _Murders?”_ Stephen asks, eyes narrowed. “’I _like_ your _beard’?”_ he quotes, just shy of losing it.

Pepper closes her eyes and purses her lips, sighing out her nose. “Look, Dr. Strange, let me explain,” she says, voice soothing and calm.

Stephen raises his eyebrows mockingly. “Yeah. I think that would be a great idea,” he snaps. She levels him with that same unflinching stare, and he’s forced to look away first.

“I apologize for the fun Mr. Stark has had at your expense,” Pepper says. “No doubt it has caused you a great deal of grief.”

“No doubt you have given this little speech before,” Stephen interjects, pointedly looking away.

Pepper smiles a bit. “Be that as it may, I’m still sorry. And I want you to know that you really don’t have anything to worry about.” A pause. “Mr. Stark won’t allow any harm to come to you.”

“So, can I go then?” Stephen asks. “I’ve got work in the morning.” At least, he’s pretty sure he’s got work in the morning.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” she says and holds up a hand before he can argue. “You’re involved now, whether you want to be or not. You’re safest here.”

“Pardon me if I find that hard to believe,” Stephen says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the window. 

“I mean, there’s a murderer on the loose,” Tony says, suddenly appearing next to him. He’s casually leaning against the glass pane, hands tucked into his pockets. “But if you want to risk it in your little Flatiron penthouse, go for it.”

His heart winds up in his throat, but Stephen is proud of himself for not physically startling this time. He must be getting used to it; he’s honestly not even surprised this guy knows where he lives.

“I’m currently talking to _monsters,”_ Stephen retorts. “I’ll take my chances.”

Tony snorts into the whiskey he wasn’t holding a second ago. “We prefer _‘demon’,”_ he corrects haughtily. “And since you’re so brave, go ahead and take your chances. I can’t keep my associates off your back once you leave and since we’re bound by contract, they will come after you.” A pause. “Because they can’t get to me, you see.”

“Right, and for all I know, you’re the _murderer,”_ Stephen mutters. “If I can really leave now, then let me.”

“Fine then.” Tony’s voice is suddenly cold. “Exit’s that way,” he nods his head. “Ms. Potts will see you out.”

Stephen immediately heads for the door.

“See you soon, Strange,” Tony calls, voice lyrical and full of dark promise.

-

Stephen feels the subtle shift, the quiet change in the air when he steps into the elevator car. It feels almost like walking through a tear in the thinnest, softest cloth that barely ghosts across his skin. He glances to Pepper to see if she noticed it as well, but she’s just looking down at her phone, like she has been this entire time. However, her third eye is gone. Stephen frowns, confused.

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean its not there,” she says, amused. “We’re back in your world. Wouldn’t want to scare anyone now, would I?” she glances up at him, smiling to let him know she’s joking. 

The elevator doors open and they’re back in the MetLife parking garage. Pepper must notice the confusion on Stephen’s face. “In our New York, this is Mr. Stark’s building,” she says, as if that clarifies a damn thing.

They reach his car. Saying goodbye feels weird, so he doesn’t.

Half way home, Stephen almost has himself convinced none of that happened. But when he looks to his right to check for oncoming traffic, something catches his eye.

It’s that same black business card. He throws it away in the lobby of his building before heading up to his suite. He orders delivery and walks into his bathroom to turn on the shower and nearly jumps when he sees the card, only to remember that Stark had given him that one- He places a hand on the wall for a moment. 

He got that one the night he almost died.

Stephen shakes his head, refusing to think about that right now, and takes a shower. Still, the memory of losing control of the wheel and barreling over the edge and down  _down_     **_down_** has Stephen weak and shaking. He ends up having to sit down and close his eyes and just breathe for a moment. 

When he finally gets out of the shower, there are two black business cards sitting on his counter. They both have a handwritten note on them. The first says: **hey handsome.** The second one says, **you dropped this xoxo.**

Stephen growls and tries to rip them up, but he can’t, so he ends up crumbling them and throwing them against the wall. 

He tries to focus on responding to work e-mails while he eats dinner, but his mind keeps wandering back to the events of the day. A sudden wave of nervousness washes over him. What if Stark had been right? What if someone does try to mess with him? Or worse?

Stephen shakes his head. He’s fine. He’s _fine._

“Oh, I am going to enjoy this,” a voice behind Stephen says. He jerks his head around, nearly spilling his pho in the process. But there’s no one there. He puts his bowl down on the coffee table and stands to turn the lights on all the way. 

Back against the wall, he scans the room. His heart is pounding so hard he can hear it in his ears. “Stark?” he says. “Stark, I swear to god if that’s you…”

“Oh, it’s not,” the voice says again. A beautiful woman with pouty lips and short blonde hair is lounging on his grand piano. He can’t be certain from where he’s standing, but he thinks she may have more than one set of arms. Stephen presses himself against the wall, breath shallow and rapid. “Who-”

“Then again, maybe it is,” she continues, but her voice has become deeper, richer. She sits up and by the time she’s righted herself, Tony Stark sits before him, ankle crossed over knee. He’s not wearing shades anymore and his grin is too unsettling to look at.

“Hmm, what do you think?” he asks. “Reality is such a _silly_ thing, isn’t it?”

“Who are you?” Stephen whispers. “Why are you here?”

The monster shrugs with an easy grin. “Does that even matter?” he replies. “You ask such boring questions, doctor. Come on.”

Stephen licks his lips and swallows. “What- what do you want?”

His smile widens. “There you go,” he praises, jumping off the piano. He saunters toward Stephen slowly. Stephen sidesteps until his back is pressed against the glass pane leading out onto his balcony.

“What I want,” the creature says, coming to stand right in front of Stephen. “Is none of your concern.” Suddenly, the glass behind Stephen disappears. He falls backward, heel catching on the bottom of the frame. He stumbles backward a bit and has to grab onto the railing to steady himself.

Stephen looks back and sees that the glass pane is in its rightful place once more. On the other side, Not-Tony grins, then slides it open to step outside. “I hear Tony’s taken up a new… hobby,” he says.

“How did you do that?” Stephen demands.

"Do you enjoy my parlor tricks, Dr. Strange?” he asks. “It’s just an illusion.” He pauses and puts his hands in his pockets. “It’s all an illusion, really,” he says. “It’s all an illusion created by illusionists to escape illusion.” He laughs heartily, then stops abruptly. “Isn’t that _ridiculous?”_ He sighs and takes a step toward Stephen, who suddenly realizes that he’s got no way to escape.

“But I’m the illusionist, now,” he continues. “So, be a good boy and play along this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: Not-Tony is bastardizing this quote: "All spiritual practices are illusions created by illusionists to escape illusion.” - Ram Dass


	4. But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title "Sympathy for the Devil" by The Rolling Stones

“But I’m the illusionist, now,” he continues. “So, be a good boy and play along this time.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Stephen asks, gripping onto the railing, trying, and failing, not to shake.

“Oh, don’t _look_ at me like that,” he says in disgust. “We both know you were supposed to die last week,” he reminds him. “And at first, I was angry,” he says. “But honestly, it’s a pleasure doing it the old fashioned way. So, I suppose I should thank you.” A pause. “I won’t, of course, but I should.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Stephen says. Unexpectedly, he feels something in his pocket. He reaches inside and pulls something out. It’s the… business card from Stark?

 **I hope you’ve seen Beetlejuice** it reads.

He looks back up, and the creature, the _monster,_ is no long wearing the image of Tony Stark. Suddenly, Christine Palmer, his work colleague and friend, is standing before him.

“We’re about to have a domestic dispute, Stephen,” she says lightly, smiling. There’s a knife in her hand. She presses it to her finger, hard, but it doesn’t bleed.

He can barely think, and he knows he has no other option. Stephen tries to take a deep breath. Clutching the card, he says, “Tony Stark, To-”

Suddenly he’s back in Stark’s suite, standing in front of his desk. Stark sits behind it, shades in place, feet propped up, grinning. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he says, laughing a bit. “Oh, that’s _too_ good.”

Behind him, the fire crackles, seemingly laughing along.

Stephen’s stomach churns, hot with anger and anxiety. “That is _it!”_ he shouts, slamming his hands on Tony’s desk. “I was just thrown out onto my balcony and _threatened!”_

Tony’s smile falls. “Shit, I’m sorry, Stephen,” he says quietly. “I just knew you were upset. I didn’t think they’d try to rough you up like that. They usually go for more… subtle intimidation.”

“I had a fucking knife pointed at me,” Stephen seethes. “If you don’t fix this right now-”

Tony holds up his hand, effectively pausing him. “Hang on, a knife?” A beat. “What did he look like.”

Stephen stands up and crosses his arms over his chest. “Like you,” he says.

Tony’s face pales.

“Also, like a woman with- with six or eight arms,” he continues. “And then… my friend, Christine.”

“So, it’s someone with shapeshifting abilities,” Tony says to himself, pulling his tablet from nowhere and searching for something, suddenly anxious. He asks Stephen to tell him everything that had happened, so he does. Tony frowns, thinking, and does another search. “That doesn’t narrow it down much; a lot of them have the clearance… What about their partner-” He stops in the middle of thinking out loud, expression quickly changing from annoyed and puzzled to devious and excited.

“This is great,” he suddenly exclaims, standing up and walking around his desk to join Stephen. “You’re actually useful after all!” He slings an arm over Stephen’s shoulder.

Stephen sneers and shrugs him off. Tony continues talking as if nothing has happened. “See, the killer is after you. You can be _bait!”_

“I am _not_ going to be _bait!”_ Stephen growls.

Tony ignores him and puts a finger to his chin in exaggerated contemplation. “You know, if you think about it, this means you should really be _thanking_ me for saving you, not whining about ‘monsters’ and ‘death threats’,” Tony says mockingly. “They clearly want you _very_ dead. If we hadn’t met, they would have killed you even if the accident didn’t.”

He smirks. “You’re welcome, Stephen.”

Stephen just stares at him, unimpressed. “Did you even hear me?” he asks flatly. “I am not going to just be your bait.”

Tony crosses his arms over his chest, practically pouting. “Ugh, fine,” he says. “But you’re stuck with me until we find out who the killer is. If you help, we might be able to catch them faster,” he suggests, stepping closer, placing one hand on the small of Stephen’s back and brushing the other over Stephen’s fingers, the light touch of his claws sending a shiver down Stephen’s spine.

Stephen instantly steps away from him. “What the hell, cut it out!”

“Shy?” Tony asks. “It’s alright.”

“No, just not interested. So, stop.”

Tony snorts and walks away, saying something quietly to himself.

“I’m sorry, what?” Stephen asks.

“I said, ‘Like hell you’re not interested’,” Tony repeats. “I’m an incubus. Everyone’s interested.”

An incubus. In mythology, they’re known to seduce women. Stephen supposes that must be close to the truth, given… _well._ He looks away, begrudgingly admitting, at least to himself, that Tony is attractive. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to act on that thought.

Stephen clears his throat. “You can’t _seduce_ me into doing what you want,” he snaps. “Now, get over here, and let’s figure this out. Why do they think it’s you, in the first place?”

“Look at you, Doctor Detective,” Tony quips, plopping back down in his office chair. He sighs and lets the chair twirl around lazily. “I don’t really know,” Stark says. “Probably because all of the victims have something in common.”

“And what’s that?” Stephen asks.

The chair finishes turning around, and Tony takes his sun glasses off to reveal where his eyes should be. “They’re all missing something,” he remarks dryly. “A matching set.”

Stephen swallows. “Oh.”

Tony puts his shades back on and continues, “Thing is, if I was looking for a new pair, I wouldn’t take some meat sack’s.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Anyway, that’s not all they’re taking. Here, have a look.” Tony hands him the tablet.

“’Some meat sack’?” Stephen repeats darkly. “You mean _people.”_

“Oh, can it. Like you give a shit about _people._ I know how you pick your patients,” Tony snaps right back.

Stephen rolls his eyes. He’s not listening to moral criticism from a fucking _demon._

“Not that I’m judging you, by the way,” Tony quickly adds. “Most of them never do anything with the second chance you give them,” he says casually. “And I wouldn’t waste talent like yours on every run-of-the-mill craniotomy and laminectomy, either.”

Stephen can’t help the surge of satisfaction that seems to swell in his gut at the compliment. (It never occurs to him to wonder why Stark knows so much about him.)

Not that Tony’s approval matters. He scowls and tries to get the conversation back on track. “Why is… _that_ enough of a connection for you to be a suspect?” Stephen presses, not satisfied with Stark’s answer.

Tony purses his lips. “There was an… incident a year ago,” he says lightly. “I was… injured, and St- my partner at the time- he was worried I was going to go, you know, crazy.” A pause. “And then some total a-hole just starts killing people and plucking out their fucking _eyes_ of all things.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been a rough year for me, let me tell you.”

“Somehow I think it’s been a worse year for others,” Stephen says coolly, scrolling through Tony’s tablet. “Tell me why I should believe you when your own colleagues don’t,” Stephen says.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony exclaims. “I _just_ saved your ass!”

Stephen rolls his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. I know it’s not you,” he says, incensed. “I’m asking why they lost faith in you so easily.” A pause. “What did you do?”

“Ouch, right to the quick, huh?” Tony says humorlessly.


	5. Done a deal with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title from "Deal with the Devil" by Judas Priest. (The chapter titles are pretty much Tony's playlist, lbh. haha)

“There’s been some in-fighting lately,” Tony says, chin in hand. “Some differences in opinion. I was expected to break the tie and when I didn’t do what they wanted, _well…”_ He scoffs and sits back. “Suddenly, everything that was going wrong was my fault.” A pause. “And when the accident happened it only got worse.” He sighs. “Then half a dozen mortals end up dead and bam- I’m on lockdown.”

“You think you’re being set up,” Stephen says. It would make sense; whoever had been at his place tonight had pretended to be Tony, even alluding to the murders…

“I _know_ I am,” Tony says. “It would make a lot of people very happy to have me out of the picture. Plus-”

“Mr. Stark, Ms. Romanov is here to speak with you,” JARVIS announces.

Pepper looks up from her spot on the loveseat by the window, eyes narrowed. Stephen had no idea how long she’s been sitting there but he’s certain she wasn’t there when he arrived.

Tony groans. “Alone?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” she says.

“Let her up, then.”

“Very well, sir,” JARVIS says.

“Nobody mention the good doctor’s little midnight visitor,” Tony tells the room. “I want to look into it first.”

A moment later, the elevator dings. Out steps a blonde woman dressed in all black. Stephen takes a step back and gasps when he sees that she has eight arms. It’s the same woman he saw in his apartment. At least, it looks just like her.

“So, you’re letting people up again?” she intones, one set of hands resting on her hips. She nods and smiles at Pepper, who looks up from her phone to return the smile. 

Stephen tries to remain calm but all he can do is think about how, nearly moments ago, someone wearing her image- down to the fucking _outfit-_ was in his apartment, threatening him. He tries to swallow but he can’t. 

“Anyone who isn’t your partner, yes,” Tony says, smiling. “How can I help you, Miss Romanov?”

“You know why I’m here, Tony.” She pointedly looks at Stephen. “Your lucky charm.”

“Excuse me?” Stephen manages to say, despite his fear. 

Natasha tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while placing a hand in her back pocket and a finger to her chin. Stephen idly wonders how easy it must before her to incapacitate a man with her obvious advantages. “Did it never occur to you to question why you’re here?” she asks him. “You made a deal with a demon- in exchange for what, exactly, Dr. Strange?”

Stephen blinks. Jesus Christ.

He’s been so preoccupied with learning that demons and parallel universes are real, and that he almost died, and that there’s someone out there, probably another demon, who wants him dead… that he neglected to even consider what is, arguably, the most important part. 

Because he’s pretty sure Tony Stark didn’t make a deal with him just so he’d be bait.

“You didn’t, did you,” she says. She’s smiling, mocking him, but her lips haven’t even moved. Stephen narrows his eyes at her for a moment and then pointedly looks away, chin slightly raised. He’s terrified, but he’s still got his pride. 

“If you bind yourself to a mortal, certain types of magic can’t be used without harming the weaker vessel,” she explains. “The amount of magic it would take to contain him would kill you.” She pauses, and he looks back at her. Her expression seems darker now, but still, her face betrays nothing. “So, until your contract is fulfilled, Stark can’t be taken into custody.” At that, she does give a small smile. “He’s just using you to buy himself a bit of time.”

Stephen would never sympathize with Tony, but he’s not an irrational man. He knows that without Tony Stark’s intervention, he’d be dead. Granted, the fact that the killer is after him at all could still be Tony’s fault in a round-about way if the killer turners out to be an enemy of Stark’s, but still. 

It’s not Stark’s fault he was in an accident to begin with, and thanks to him he’s still got working hands. Nothing would have mattered if he had lost that, even if no one was trying to kill him.

He won’t say he’s grateful, but, he’s certain he prefers _this_ reality to the one that could have been. So, maybe that’s why Stephen says, “If you’re already doling out punishments without due process, no wonder he has to find loopholes. Or is there no such thing as a judicial system in this world?”

Natasha raises a brow. “My, you move fast, Stark,” she says, eyeing Stephen up and down in a new light. He narrows his eyes at her and scoffs.

Pepper catches Natasha’s eye and shakes her head no. For a split second, Natasha looks surprised.

“You know I didn’t do it, Nat,” Tony says quietly.

She sighs. “I know, Tony, but you’re already under investigation. And _this_ is only making things look worse,” she says, nodding at Stephen. Her phone goes off, but she ignores it. “Just undo all this and come in with me. We can sort this out.”

“No,” he says. “Is that all Steve wanted you to say? Because we’re sort of in the middle of something here.”

Natasha crosses her arms over her chest and another set rest on her hips. “We’re not the enemy, Tony,” she says quietly.

 _“No?”_ he asks. “Well, neither am I.” He takes a deep breath and straightens his tie. “It was lovely catching up with you, Natasha. Tell Director Fury I look forward to seeing him _real soon.”_

She turns around and tells Pepper to call her and Tony scoffs. When she gets to the elevator she turns around and gives him a sad smile. “Good luck, Tony,” she says.

“Don’t need it, no such thing,” he says, dismissing her.

“Is this a bad time?” a young man asks, crawling out of the side of the elevator and on the wall, on all four. His movements remind Stephen of a spider. His eye twitches a bit and his head is starting to throb and he’s starting to feel like he needs to sit down. _Now._ A chair appears behind his legs about two seconds before his knees begin to give.

“What?” he seems genuinely surprised, looking just past Natasha. “Oh, Peter. …Hi,” he says unenthusiastically, then looks back to Natasha. “I mean, hey! There you are, kid.” A pause. “And, _you,”_ he says with feigned interest at the young woman with dark curls standing near him. She must have walked out of the elevator like a _normal_ person while Stephen was too busy watching someone casually skitter across the wall like something out of a _nightmare._

Natasha leaves and Tony drops the act. “What are you doing here?” he asks, irritated.

“We wanted to tell you something,” Peter says quickly.

 _“You_ wanted to tell him something,” she corrects. “Is this your human?” she asks, grinning at Stephen. Behind her thick hair, he can see that she has a third eye, just like Pepper.

Stephen scowls at her. “I’m not _his_ human,” he says.

 _“Well…”_ Tony cuts in, tilting his hand back and forth. Stephen pointedly ignores him.

“Hungry?” the young woman asks, grinning deviously as she pulls an apple from thin air. Stephen swears it shines like gold, but Tony snatches it from her hand with a “that’s a _bad_ Michelle” before he can get a better look.

“So, what did you need?” Tony asks, taking a bite of it and giving the young woman a warning glance.

“We can come back later,” Peter says, looking awkwardly back and forth between Tony and Stephen. “MJ, let’s go.”

She rolls her eyes but walks back toward the elevator. “The director wants us to spy on you,” she calls over her shoulder, then looks up to Peter, daring him to say something.

Tony just snorts. “Oh, what else is new.”

“See, he doesn’t even care,” she says emphatically. _“Now_ can we go get dinner?”

-

When Peter and MJ leave, the atmosphere is tense. Pepper excuses herself to the kitchen to take a phone-call, and that only makes it worse.

The silence stretches on and now that everyone else has left (and the fresh wave of panic has worn off a bit) his anger begins to return. Stephen doesn’t have time for a sci-fi crime drama; he has a life to get back to. He might owe Tony a debt, but what the hell was the point of saving his life if he just has to put it back on the line again? Fuck that.

“Thanks for, uh, having my back,” Tony says stiffly, drawing him out of his thoughts.  

Stephen doesn’t bother to suppress the eye roll. Stark’s got to know he’s only playing along out of self-preservation, not sympathy. He couldn’t care less about Tony and the problems he most likely played a part in bringing upon himself. 

“Undo it,” he snaps coldly, impatiently. 

Tony sits back down at his computer. Settling back into his chair, he raises a brow at Stephen. “Undo _what?”_ he asks with faux-ignorance, though there’s still the hint of an edge to his words. 

“That… woman. She just told you to undo this and go with her. So, _undo it.”_

Tony smiles. “Sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or _won’t?”_ Stephen demands.

“Take your pick.” Tony shrugs, turning away from him to focus on his computer screen. He hasn’t given it much thought before, but the technology Stephen has seen seems almost anachronistic in this building. There’s neither a television nor a lightbulb to be found, anywhere. Just a spacious kitchen, comfortable seating around the ornate, art nouveau fireplace, and the endless walls of glass. And on the other side, the seemingly constant night sky. He looks toward the elevator and wonders what would happen if he just left.

“Look,” Tony says, “once I clear my name, you’re free to go. So, cheer up, okay?” 

“Oh, sorry if I’m a little upset, I was almost _murdered_ an hour ago because you drug me into this!” Stephen accuses. 

“You would have been dead _anyway,_ or did you forget that little detail already?” Tony tilts his head and asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.  

Stephen opens his mouth to retort but realizes he doesn’t have much by way of a come-back. Because Tony is right; Stephen would have been dead without his intervention. Or worse than dead, honestly. Thinking about lying in that hospital bed, his hands destroyed beyond repair… Stephen snaps his mouth shut and works his jaw, eyes blazing. “I hate you,” he seethes.

“Sure, you do, sweetheart,” Tony says, grinning. He’s still wearing shades, but Stephen is certain Tony just winked at him. The thought makes him blush, which only makes him more frustrated.

“And don’t even think about trying to leave without me,” Tony adds. He smiles, wide and sharp.

“Why?” Stephen asks suspiciously.

“Being here is hard enough on your mortal form,” Tony says. “Wander too far from my protection and you could start to fall apart at the sub-atomic level.” He winces. “And I hear that’s a _horrible_ way to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: Just a reminder to read the tags! Things will pick up in about 2 posts or so.


	6. From a heart made of steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title from "Deal with the Devil" by Judas Priest.

The first victim was a second generation Polish immigrant in medical school. She had moved from her family’s home in Michigan to New York for school and was in her second year. And now she was dead.

Like all the victims, her eyes had been removed post-mortem. Stephen keeps reading, and his eyebrows lift ever so slightly. Her sternum and ribs had been shattered and ripped apart in order to remove her heart.

The second victim was handled with much the same violence, destruction, and apparent raw emotion. But the third showed a marked level of improvement and logic, and the fourth could be easily mistaken for a medical cadaver. Everything wanow clean, surgical, and precise. Efficient and detached.

But something changed between victim number four and five. The interest, for some reason, had shifted from the heart to the brain.

The fifth victim was a thirty-one year old engineer working for a tech start-up in Manhattan. The sixth was similarly employed. But the seventh was a fifty-four year old construction worker, ruining any chance at a pattern forming. At least as far as Stephen could see.

It suddenly occurs to Stephen that he would have been the eighth victim. A forty-two year old neurosurgeon. Stephen tries, and fails, to suppress the wave of panic and nausea that washes over him, threatening to drown him once more like it had on the evening he lost control of his car.

“I can hear you thinking all the way over here,” Tony says, pulling Stephen from the edge of that dark memory. He doesn’t know why Stark is trying to make small talk with him, but Stephen will gladly take the reprieve for the moment.They’re sitting around the fireplace; Tony and Pepper on the sofa to his left while Stephen sits facing it, reading over the reports of the victim’s on Tony’s tablet, trying to find a connection since he’s apparently stuck here for now.

“All of these murders happened within months, sometimes weeks of each other. All in heavily populated areas. How was this never on the news?” Stephen asks, steering the conversation away from himself.

“We had our cleaners come in,” Tony says off-handedly, as if cleaning up a murder scene is as easy as cleaning up a carpet stain. For them, it probably is. Stephen makes a slightly horrified face but doesn’t comment. “Why didn’t you tell that woman, Natasha, what happened?” he asks. “Wouldn’t that help your case? Prove your innocence?”

The fire suddenly grows to life before settling once more.

“I’m not helping them out anymore,” Tony responds with such finality Stephen doesn’t press the issue.

Pepper excuses herself for the evening, promising to check the wards and barriers before heading to her suite, leaving the two of them alone in the sitting area.

A moment later, Tony is sitting next to Stephen. Their legs touch and the warmth generating from that one spot is all Stephen can think about. “What are you doing,” he says flatly, not looking up from the tablet that he’s gripping a bit too tightly.

“It’s getting late,” Tony says quietly. He turns to face Stephen, hand resting on his thigh. “We can pick this back up in the morning.”

Stephen swallows and licks his lips. His skin seems to vibrate where Tony touches him and all he wants to do is lean into it, soak it up, seek out more. He blinks and leans away, closing his mouth. “No, what the- Get _off_ me.”

Before Stephen can stand up, Tony is already sitting where he had been previously.

“Knock it off, Stark,” he warns. 

“Right, right, you’re _immune,”_ Tony says, smirking a little as he crosses ankle over knee and takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

Stephen levels him with a glare for a moment before looking back down at the tablet in his hands. “Don’t you want to solve this? Get me their family history.” 

That catches Tony’s attention and he sits up a bit. “Why, what’s up? Did you find something?” he sounds skeptical, yet tentatively hopeful.

“I won’t know until I look at the records, now, will I?” Stephen says slowly, annoyed.

“JARVIS, can you jump on that?” Tony asks, ignoring Stephen.

“I will need to search several databases, but it should take less than two hours, sir.”

“What should we do while we wait?” Tony asks suggestively.

“Start from the beginning of this whole mess, I’d say.” Stephen sets the tablet down on the mahogany coffee table. “The accident, last year. Your eyes.” Stephen doesn’t mince his words. “What happened?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Tony looks away from him, staring off into the dying flames.

“It does if it keeps happening to innocent people!”

Tony laughs. “You’re doing it again,” he says quietly. “Don’t forget your principles to suite your argument, Stephen.”

“What are you talking about?”

 _“’Innocent people’,”_ Tony mocks, pitching his voice much lower than normal to impersonate the doctor. “Drop the act; you only care about your own skin.” A pause. “Same as me.” He takes a long drink, then another. “Apparently.” He laughs to himself for a moment, and the sound is hollow and unsettling.  

“I’ll give you a tour, then,” Tony says suddenly, a moment later, mood completely shifted. He stands before Stephen and extends his hand. Stephen just looks at him. “Seriously?”  

Tony doesn’t move. “We’re taking the shortcut,” he says. “And you’ve got a better chance of keeping all your fingers and toes if you hold on.”

Stephen sighs and takes Tony’s hand and they’re in a completely different room. A large, modern lab with several work stations and computers. It hasn’t been touched in ages and the dust from the stagnant air has settled over the room like a grey snow fall.

“Where are we?” Stephen looks around but doesn’t move. 

“My old lab,” Tony says. “Beautiful, huh?”

The room is dim and derelict. A few cob-webs seem to sway in the still air, catching the light of an unknown source every now and then. The more Stephen looks around, the more he starts to notice that some things are broken and out of place. Parchment and glass is strewn across the floor and a computer terminal is severely damaged. Like a fight took place here, and then the room was boarded up, never to be used again.  

The light shifts again, revealing the dark stains on the ground. 

“What happened here?” Stephen asks, following the trail of the stains all the way to one of the computers. But the light shifts again, and he can no longer make out the details.

“You asked about the accident.” Tony walks about the room, wandering over to a work bench and running a finger over it, feeling the grime collect under his claw. 

The air is starting to feel sour and thick and nearly unbearable, but Stephen says nothing and waits for Tony to continue. 

“Technology is limited in our world,” he says. “There’s a reason for that, but I figured if anyone could find a way to change that, it would be me.”

“And let me guess, it back fired?” Stephen asks.

Tony stills for a moment. “Yes.”

The hazy light passes back over the floor and Stephen wonders if the stains are dried blood. “What happened?” he asks quietly.

“I created an AI capable of autonomous thought and action,” Tony says. “I can’t be in two places at once and as my company grew, the demands from the Council grew as well.” A pause. “I placed my best wards on it, but the thing is, simply warding my tech from anyone wishing to corrupt it or harm me wasn’t enough. Someone got through.” Tony takes a seat and brushes a cob-web off of a monitor.

“My partner at the time, Steve Rogers, he never thought it was a good idea.” He snorts. “We constantly fought about it. He just knew someone would use it to hurt me one day.” Tony turns to look back at Stephen, who hasn’t moved an inch. “Spoiler alert," he says glibly, "Steve was right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo excited for the next part, y'all. >:D


	7. A distant ship's smoke on the horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title from "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd.

“Your partner?” Stephen asks.

“Yeah, we worked together almost three years.” Tony’s voice is tight. “A partner is, ah, someone your energy can align with. Pep’s my partner now,” Tony says, trying to sound casual. He clears his throat. “Helps you with the bigger spells. _Anyway_!” He runs his hands over the keyboard, then picks it up, turning it this way and that. There’s a hardness to his gaze now. “Some jackass infected my AIs OS with a curse.” He puts the keyboard down and folds his arms over his chest. “First thing it did was pluck my eyes out. Like grapes from a vine.” Tony stares at him. “Would have had my heart, too. If Steve hadn’t gotten there in time.” His words are cold but he’s still smiling. Tony places a hand to his chest. “There’s a pretty sweet sigil here now. Too bad you’ll never get to see it. Since you’re immune, and all.” He lowers his shades and winks.

Stephen scowls and rolls his eyes. “Do I need a spray bottle, Stark?”

“Sir, I have finished compiling the data Dr. Strange requested,” JARVIS announces.

Tony whistles. “New record.”

“I _do_ aim to please you, sir.” JARVIS remarks. “However, Captain Rogers is here with a search warrant. Ms. Potts directive to not allow him entry is still in effect. Shall I message her to renew the barrier, sir?”  

Tony curses under his breath and groans. “Fuck. _Fuck._ No. Let her sleep. Tell him to go away. No. Tell him you’re experiencing technical difficulties.”

“Is Jarvis an AI?” Stephen asks suddenly.

“Uh, yeah?” Tony says. “Obviously. What, did you think he was a ghost or something?”

Stephen just looks at him. People come with more than two arms here and he can’t remember what day it is right now. He doesn’t know _what_ to think anymore.

“Don’t worry, Jarvis needs a direct command from me to operate. No one can override his OS.” He smiles fondly. “Ain’t that right, buddy?”

“You are correct, sir,” Jarvis says. “Your firewall spell is the finest in New York.”

Tony preens for a moment, then takes a deep breath.

“Right, so, guess this is happening now.” He walks back toward Stephen, a whiskey in one hand and a stress ball in the other. He offers an elbow to Stephen. “Try not to hold your breath; you’ll throw up.”

Stephen squints at him. “What?”

Tony rolls his eyes and grabs his hand and a moment later Stephen is dry heaving on the hardwood floors of Tony’s guest bedroom.

“I told you not to hold your breath.” Tony _tsks_. “It’s not exactly good for your insides to ‘port that frequently.”

Tony spots something on the nightstand- it’s a golden apple. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He snatches it up and quickly pockets it.

Stephen rights himself on shaky legs and flips Tony the bird. He shrugs and claps Stephen on the shoulder once, twice. On the third, his hand lingers, sliding lower to feel a bicep.

“ _Hello_ , nurse,” Tony murmurs. He looks up to Stephen and gives him a small grin. “You really are gorgeous, Strange.” He tilts his head a bit. “But you already know that, hmm?” His hand tightens it’s hold and Stephen freezes, captivated by the way the soft light from the moon plays on Tony’s bottom lip, making it look soft and warm and ripe for the taking, no matter the weapons hiding beneath. Stephen is transfixed.

Tony snakes his other hand around Stephen’s back, bringing them face to face. “Let me kiss you,” he whispers, nose ghosting over the line of his jaw, the tip of his lips grazing Stephen’s earlobe.

“What- _no_.” Stephen pushes him away.

“Damn, dude.” Tony pouts. “Not even with the full moon?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Stephen deadpans. “What does the moon have to do with anything?” A pause. “And where the fuck did the moon even _come_ from?”

“Sir, Captain Rogers is growing impatient,” JARVIS says.

Tony throws his head back. “I’m gonna pluck him, I swear to Tezcatlipoca,” he mutters under his breath. “Jarvis, let Stephen look at the files. And tell Steve- No, you know what? Tell Steve _nothing_.” He nods to himself. “Make him sweat a bit. Who the hell does he think he is, showing up at this hour.” His brow twitches. “ _Dick_.”

Stephen is ready to drive a screwdriver through his frontal lobe in about two seconds if things don’t start making sense soon.

“You okay, babe?” Tony asks. “You’ve been in my dimension for a hot minute, don’t worry if you feel a little off.” He gives that same, too-wide grin again. “You flesh bags are such delicate things. You’ll be fine once you go back home.”

Stephen ignores the insult, absolutely refusing to stoop to Tony’s level. “Too bad I can’t go back now.” He glowers. “Since someone who hates _you_ is trying to kill _me_.” A pause. “ _Douchebag_.”

Well, maybe not absolutely refusing.

Tony laughs. “You are the cutest thing.” He blows him a kiss and vanishes. “Stay out of trouble, doc.”

Stephen looks around the bedroom. There’s a huge bed and a seating area arranged around a small fireplace. A large glass door opens out onto the large stone balcony but Stephen shudders, remembering what had happened earlier in the evening. He instinctively draws away and takes a seat far from the balcony, but still close enough to the fire to see comfortably. The chair has a deep red blanket draped over the back of it and looks comfortable enough.  

Outside, the moon seems much smaller now, much farther away than it had been moments earlier. The stars have returned and multiplied, filling up the night sky like shards of glass when the last time he had been here not a single one could be found in the heavens. Stephen looks down at the tablet, determined to stop wondering what the fuck is going on here, because he has, at last, finally come to realize that things don’t have to make sense here.

“ _It’s all an illusion, really_.” The killer’s words echo in his mind, but he swears he heard them as if someone in the room has spoken. Stephen shakes his head and looks back down at the tablet to go over the medical history of the victims and their families.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. How's that UST treatin y'all?
> 
>  
> 
> ... :D?
> 
> NB: The next post is when stuff gets fun~~


	8. You are only coming through in waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title from "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cracks knuckles* Okay, so this is the beginning of what I'm sooo excited for. Enjoyyy!
> 
> NB: In Hinduism, a triyambake is a three-eyed goddess. The goddess Shakti is a good example. The ajna chakra, or third-eye, is associated with intuition and perception.

He thins his lips in grim apprehension when his hypothesis seems to have merit, though he still can’t help the flicker of satisfaction he gets at having been right. Every single victim, and every single immediate family member, was in above average physical health. But beyond that, and something he hadn’t even _thought_ of, every single one of them was either currently being treated or had at some point in their life been treated for a mental illness of one type or another.

Stephen feels sick when he realizes that once again, he fits the mold. He’s been vegan for years, exercises regularly, and was diagnosed as a sociopath at age nineteen. This is just fucking _super_.

The killer doesn’t care about their careers, they care about their health. But _why_? Did they have access to this much information, like Stark does? It would be so easy to plan something like this with all this knowledge at your disposal... No wonder they suspect Tony.

But if it’s a set-up, why go through the trouble of vetting victims like this, why not just pick easy targets and plant the evidence? Unless something else is going on, and their physical and mental health matters for some reason? But why would any of that matter to someone from a world full of fucking _magic_?

“ _You ask such boring questions, doctor, come on._ ”

This time, Stephen is certain he hears a voice.

“Jarvis?” he calls tentatively.

“Yes, Doctor Strange?”

“Did you hear that?” Stephen glances about the room. With all the stars shining so brightly, the room may be dimly lit but it’s completely visible. No one else is there.

“Hear what, sir?” he responds, voice calm and polite. “Are you alright? Shall I call Mr. Stark?”

He sways a bit and frowns, shaking his head. “No.” He tries to swallow. “No that- I’m fine.”

“Are you certain you don’t wish for me to call sir, Doctor Strange?” JARVIS asks kindly.

There’s a deep throbbing in his ears, at his temple. Stephen feels like he might fall out of his seat and he grips at the furniture, pushing himself into it, gasping. He looks down at his feet, suddenly dizzy, and dozens of eyes look up at him from the area rug, bloody and quivering and rolling over one another but never looking away. Something brushes against his shoulder.

Stephen screams and picks up his feet but when he looks back down, nothing is there.

“Jarvis?” he calls, frantic.

“Y- - si-- - - an’t—e- yo- -  -   -  -g-  -” JARVIS continues to come in and out for a while, before cutting out completely.

“God dammit,” Stephen curses to himself, eyes darting around the room. Everything seems normal. Well, as normal as can be for the fucking demon dimension. Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe he’s just been here too long, like Stark said. He’s just a little confused. Stephen stands up to walk to the bed and lie down.

“There we go, Stephen,” Tony says. Only Tony isn’t there.

Stephen turns around but the room does too, so he can’t see who’s behind him. “Who’s there?” he hisses, he tries to turn again and again but the same thing keeps happening.

“Tonight was certainly enlightening, Stephen,” Not-Tony says behind him. “This time I think I _will_ say thank you.”

Something heavy and soft and vibrating with possibility and endlessness folds itself around him like a shadow but he can’t see it. Every time he looks down his vision blurs.

“Sooo, thanks for the body. Tony really seems taken with it.” A pause. “Man, you really saved me time. I don’t have to keep looking for the best bits for my build a bear now!” He laughs hysterically. “This is too perfect.”

“What?” Stephen asks. He can almost turn, almost see him now.

“Bye-bye,” Not-Tony says lightly, and Stephen can finally see him.

He’s looking at himself, watching as he smirks and waves and slowly gets smaller and smaller and farther away. Terrified, Stephen screams. It’s guttural and raw and primal and the sound of creation and like that, time stands still. Slowly, he feels the energy he just expelled returning to him and for a moment, _he_ is still.

Stephen is aware that he’s floating away now, floating away with no destination. But he still feels tethered to the earth below somehow. He’s free. He knows that he can return… and he’s free.

Completely free.

He lifts his hands to eye-level, palms up. Atoms and planets turn above his fingertips, Saturn and Mars and a million tiny quarks. He lowers his hands and looks up, and the entire universe surrounds him. The entire universe is within him. Home. He’s home again. Finally, home within himself.

Something taps on his shoulder, he glances right but gets distracted by the constant death and rebirth of a star.

Something taps **much** more insistently. He looks again but the beauty and horror he is witnessing, the hundreds of thousands of lifetimes he is experiencing, is overwhelming, too much- and not enough at all.  It will never be enough, because he’s met the one. For hundreds of thousands of lifetimes. All of them, overlaid in waves, separate but the same. Equally real and important. It hasn't happened yet, but it _will._ He can _finally_ see his heart. Each ventricle pulsating with promise, each vein shimmering with life, a mirror of the stars he’s surrounded by and made up of.

Suddenly something that feels like thick cloth wraps itself around his head and forces his neck down. Pinched between two dainty folds of fabric (if he squints, he can almost see the shape of a pinky being held high) sits one of Stark’s business cards.

 **First** **time?** It reads.

“What?” Stephen says. He can see the sound entering into existence.

 **Astral projection** it reads now. **You’re so high, dude. So, so high.** The words disappear, and more replace them. **Case and point, you’re hallucinating that Tony Stark is speaking to you via this _sweet_ cloak.**

Stephen finally glances about himself. His body is the same as it’s ever been and like nothing he has ever known before. He’s never been only flesh, only bone. He is energy and potential. He is limitless.

The deep red cloak resting on his shoulders seems to sigh a bit. **Don’t worry, it gets easier. But we’ve really got to get back down to Earth now.**

“What?” Stephen says for the first time ever.

 **Aaalright, and down we go**. **Don’t hold your breath this time, hot stuff.**

Stephen’s heart flutters. “Yeah,” he says and smiles fondly and lets go.

-

Down   _down_     ** _down_** he goes, but it’s nothing like falling this time. Nothing like that distant accident had been. No, this time it’s more like floating. He passes the stars, grazing them with his fingers as he passes by, before gliding through the walls of Stark Tower in a rush and landing in the elevator, precisely behind his corporal form.

“Get out of my body, asshole,” he says.

“What the fuck-” The being turns around but in one swift movement Stephen takes a step forward and bats at the air like one would a gnat. Whatever has taken up residence in his body is thrown out, and it howls in anger and pain before almost dissolving, disappearing into the energy of magic that flows all around. Stephen has never noticed that before now. He has no idea how, though. It's _everywhere._

He scowls. The elevator is taking entirely too much time to reach his destination and he thinks he should be there already. In the next instant he’s standing on top of a kitchen counter. Stephen blinks and looks around, pushing the cloak back to look around himself. “What the fuck just happened.” He hops off the counter and comes face to face with the same young woman he saw earlier. It’s the Triyambake, Michelle.

How the fuck does he know the exact type of demon she is now? She smirks and he scowls. Stephen has had it up to here with everyone’s cryptic, _knowing_ looks.

“Good call,” she says, voice amused. “Coming here before dealing with your boo’s mess.”

“I wasn’t trying to come here,” he says. “I don’t even know how I got here.”

“That’s because you just stuffed your newly supernatural soul inside an old worn-out _corpse,”_ she says, absolutely judging him. “Which is like, weird flex, but okay.” She offers him fruit again. This time, it’s a peach.

Stephen rolls his eyes. First humans are meat sacks, now they’re corpses. Demons are so lovely.

“What, no apple this time?” he jokes.

“Fresh out,” she says, grinning. “Eat up.”

“Why?” he asks, holding it. He moves to turn the peach over in his palm and suddenly its floating in the air, rotating on its axis.

“Because you’re like two seconds away from imploding?” she says. “I don’t know how you’re conducting this much magic right now. You’re literally inside of a _dead_ _body_.” She pulls a face. “Now eat this before you start stinking up the place.”

Stephen balks. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MCU MJ is honestly my favorite, I wanted more of her in Homecoming sooo I can't stop having fun with her character, haha. 
> 
> NB: On Stephen: I read an article a while back that Benedict Cumberbatch is vegan, and it suits my needs for this story so I'm going with that. Also, it's just my head canon that Strange is a sociopath. I'm not a professional, but he ticks a few of the boxes. (Narcissist, lack of empathy, reckless behavior, etc etc who else does this sound like haha.)


	9. Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title from "Come as you are" by Nirvana.

MJ closes her eyes, save for the ajna, her third eye. Even through her thick hair, that one remains fixed on him. “Something knocked you out of your body,” she says casually. “You died. Only, nothing here dies. Not really.” She says as if that makes sense and tilts her head to the side. “My guess is, your soul soaked up a bit of magic when it happened.” She looks him up and down. “Like, entirely _too much_ magic. Fuck. Eat this or get out because I don’t want human guts all over my kitchen.” She levels him with a glare. “I’m serious. These floors are new.”

“I’m dead,” Stephen says flatly.

“No,” Michelle corrects. “Your _outfit_ is dead.”

Stephen looks to the fruit in his hand. “How the hell is this going to help?” he asks.

Michelle rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m honestly just… really over this conversation. It’s like four in the morning. Take the peach and go.”

“But how do I-”

“Okay, bye.”

Stephen blinks and he’s back in the elevator, staring at the peach in his hand. His hand _does_ seem a bit… cold. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. That is such bullshit. If he was dead, he’d know. Then again, he did just float through space. Or… maybe it was the other way around. The details are a little fuzzy.

He looks at the control panel of the elevator and thinks about pushing the button. But before he can move, the correct floor is already selected, and he has absolutely _no_ idea how he knows to do that. But… maybe he should just go with it.

Stephen pauses for a moment and a thought finally occurs to him. Some Triyambake are gifted with foresight and that woman has offered him fruit twice now, maybe even three times; he suspects the apple in his bedroom was from her, though he can’t prove it. The Golden Apple of Immortality (a little on the nose but alright) can bestow immortality (you don’t say) on a human's corporal form. Now that his body is ~~apparently decomposing~~ a little worse for wear the Peach of Immortality (okay, who the fuck names this shit, honestly) is his only hope of remaining whole. And also… in this part of the multiverse.

Stephen looks up for a moment then shakes his head and exhales, resigned.

He takes a bite.

 

 

 

Everything comes into focus.

 

-

The elevator opens on Tony’s private floor. Stephen steps out, cloak billowing about him unnaturally. Tony stands in front of his desk, speaking with a tall blond seraph. Steve Rogers has his wings tucked tightly to his body and there’s a line of tension down his back, arms folded across his chest defensively. Stephen can’t help but narrow his eyes at the scene.

“I need to speak with you, Tony,” Stephen calls.

The two of them turn to look at him. “Now really isn’t a good time, babe.” Tony’s mouth falls open and he makes a show of looking him up and down. “Did you go _shopping_?” he asks, indicating to the cloak. “Definitely your color.”

Stephen levels him with a stare, then turns a sharp eye on Rogers. “ _Alone_ ,” he continues.

“Doctor Strange, rest assured we will sort this out and have y-”

“Oh, put a cork in it, Gabirel,” Stephen cuts him off. Steve’s lips keep moving, but no sound comes out. His eyes widen, and he turns to Tony, silently demanding an explanation.

Tony puts his hands up. “Hey, I am just as surprised as you!” He looks to Stephen. “What the hell happened!? Jarvis, what happened?”

“I am uncertain, sir,” JARVIS responds. “I did not pick up on anything unusual happening in Doctor Strange’s quarters. I apologize.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Stephen says. “The _real_ killer is in the building-” A quick, pointed glance at Steve. “-and we need to prepare. Fetch Ms. Potts.” He looks back to Rogers, who still can’t make a sound. “We’ve got this covered, Captain. Feel free to see yourself out.” The parchment on Tony’s desk, no doubt the papers Tony had been served with, end up in the fireplace. The flames rise, dancing, and devour the document within seconds. Steve opens his mouth to protest, silver-white wings half-spread in warning.

Stephen rolls his eyes. “I was going to suggest the elevator, but that works, too.” The door leading to the balcony opens and a light breeze rolls in. Stephen tilts his head toward the terrace, expression expectant.

A slow, easy grin spreads across Tony’s face. “I think I’m in love,” he says.

Stephen smirks.

-

“What did he want?” Stephen demands, stalking up to Tony. “I thought you said they couldn’t arrest you.”

“Nevermind _Rogers_ ,” Tony says, waving his hand and looking at him in complete disbelief. “I leave you alone for _literally five minutes_ and you become an _Aethera_? What the _fuck,_ Stephen?”

Stephen grins, nodding once. “You can tell,” he says, impressed.

“Hard to miss the energy rolling off of you, shit.” Tony says, assessing him. “I should have known something was up when MJ was being a little shit. Triyambakes like to be cryptic, the assholes.” He pauses and looks around. “Except for Pepper, of course,” he says, because she might appear at any moment. “Pepper is perfect and wonderful.”  

Stephen had wanted to have this conversation when they had more time for it, but if he’s being honest with himself, now that he knows what he knows… he’s not sure if he _can_ wait. It feels like telling someone about the sun, and then asking them to sit in darkness for another millennia.

“We should talk,” he says, voice soft.

Tony sighs and nods, giving a lifeless smile. “Guess you’re off the hook, huh?” he asks quietly.

Stephen frowns. “What?”

“Well, I don’t know if anyone told you this, but you ain’t exactly mortal anymore,” Tony replies. “So, you’re off the hook. There’s no more contract.” A pause. “Thanks for kicking Rogers out, though. That was a nice touch.” Tony looks about the room a bit awkwardly. “Sooo… I guess… see ya?”

“What are you talking about?” Stephen asks. “I just said the killer is in the building. Is Ms. Potts on her way?”

Tony nods. “Yeah, but you don’t have to stay,” he says, voice not betraying any emotion. “The contract was the only thing keeping you here.”

A moment of silence passes between the two of them. Stephen looks across the room to him and their eyes lock. “That’s not true,” he says, refusing to look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: No notes today on what Stephen is, the fic will delve into it next few parts. Stay tuned for the good stuff, yall. ;) ;)


	10. As a friend, as a friend, as a known enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title from "Come as You Are" by Nirvana.

When the murderer knocked Stephen out of his body, he had been catapulted into space. Not _outer_ space, but literally _s p a c e_. The in between. The pause before the inhale, the pause after the exhale. Where life began and magic flows freely, uninhibited. And it had changed him irreparably.

He had become pure oneness for a moment- and then promptly slam all that energy, all that possibility, into a human form. His quintessence, now imperfect but no less powerful, became a physical representation of the closest thing to transcendence possible in this or any dimension. A being of magic and energy. An Aethera. Endowed with a millennia’s worth of knowledge and the ability to bend reality to his will, the human life he had once felt so attached to no longer holds the same weight. It seems distant, almost false. Like it is someone else’s memories, or a story from a book.   

“Something you’d like to share with the class?” Tony asks casually.

But _this._ This feels real.

There are thousands of opportunities at every turn. Anything is possible when you can see all of the ripples and how they intersect and influence one another, like threads in a web. Stephen might not know exactly what will happen, but he does know that in all of the best probable futures… the only ones worth going after are the ones with Tony.

Stephen freezes.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Tony frowns at him slightly.

 Stephen can’t think of how to respond. Because how do you tell someone you’ve just met you’re certain you were made for each other when twelve hours ago the thought of being in a relationship, a _real_ one, had never even crossed his mind? Not to mention the fact that Tony is a text book narcissist. Selfish, promiscuous, attention-seeking. Ugh.

“You won’t catch your killer without me,” Stephen says, a little too pointedly. “And it came after me. This is personal.”

Tony rolls his eyes but nods. “Fair enough.” A pause. “Any other reason?”

Stephen clears his throat. “No.” He narrows his eyes and frowns, suddenly uncomfortable. Made for each other or not, Stephen isn’t going to tell someone he only _just_ met about all their potential futures. God, how fucking weird would _that_ be. That’s not how real life works. That’s not how real _love_ works. At least theoretically, anyway.

Stephen clears his throat. “Think of it as a thank you,” he says. “I doubt I’d have this much power at my finger-tips if you hadn’t conned me into solving your problems for you. Plus, now that I know I can’t die…” He shrugs. “No skin off my back.” An eye twitch. “Again.”

Tony stares at him, giving the impression he’s narrowing his eyes, thinking about something.

“What?” Stephen asks, giving away nothing.

“Oh, don’t mind me.” Tony turns on his heel and heads for the bar. He could just conjure a drink, but nothing beats homemade. “Can I get you anything, doctor?” he asks.

“I don’t drink.”

A smile curls at Tony’s lips. “Don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do you do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Save you?” He rolls his eyes. “Douchebag.”

Tony laughs. “So, what’s the plan? And Jarvis, did Pepper get lost? What’s taking her so long.”

“Ms. Potts wishes to inform you that, and I am quoting her, sir, if you have time to tell her to hurry up, then you have time to make a blessed pot of coffee.” A pause. “Sir.”

“We can wait for her,” Stephen says. “We’re safe for now; it’s gone dormant.”

“You can feel it?” Tony asks incredulously. He sits before the fire and invites Stephen to come join him. Stephen hesitates for a moment before following him.

“So, are you planning on telling me anything?”

Stephen raises a brow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. You know everything. Literally, everything now. So, spill.”

Stephen furrows his brows. “No, I don’t.” A pause. “There’s no such thing as a definitive future. I only know what’s possible.”

“Alright, _fine_ , keep your secrets.” Tony huffs. “Is it _possible_ that we’ll make it out of this?”

Stephen grins and says nothing.

“You’re a horrible person, you know that, Strange?” Tony asks darkly, but he’s grinning.

“Turnabout’s fair play, Stark.” He turns to face the demon, resting his right knee on the sofa. “Would you like me to fix your eyes?” he asks before he can think about the offer too hard.

Tony’s grin falters. “Seriously?” he asks, voice suddenly quiet. “I’ve almost got the energy stored up to do it myself, only a few more weeks.”

Stephen frowns. “No one has offered to help?”

Tony shrugs. “Pep did. But she’s got a lot on her plate. Not many other people know, so-”

“Your ex-Partner did,” Stephen harshly cuts him off. “You were compatible. The recoil from the spell would have been negligible between the two of you. Why didn’t he help?”

“He was injured at the time as well,” Tony says. “He offered to help once he healed but, when the murders began…” Tony’s words trail off and Stephen’s stomach churns with anger at the thought of what the seraph, Steve Rogers, had done. Turning on Tony like that, without any evidence…

“Tell me who it is,” Tony demands, changing the subject back to the matter at hand. “I want to know who’s been _fucking_ with me.” His expression is stony, unfaltering. Stephen knows he won’t take no for an answer.

“I will,” he murmurs. “Just trust me.” He reaches forward and takes Tony’s shades off. Stephen could do it without the aid of incantation or touch, but this is too important to leave any room for error. He rests his hands on either side of Tony’s head and quietly speaks his eyes back into existence. In a matter of seconds, bright eyes the richest shade of honey Stephen has ever seen, blink at him.

“Holy shit you’re hot,” Tony says.

Stephen can’t help it; he laughs. “I thought you already knew that.”

“Well yeah, but now I’ve got high def back.” He grins and winks.

Stephen rolls his eyes and sits back, but he’s smiling openly.  

They lapse into silence. After a few moments Tony quietly says, “Thank you, Stephen.”

“It was nothing,” Stephen replies, because it honestly is, but he can’t help the surge of excitement he feels at Tony’s words. Which is _just_ pathetic, really.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, though. The killer is back.

“So, will you at least tell me how the killer got in?” Tony asks quietly.

“How it got _out_ you mean,” Stephen corrects.

Tony balks. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about Pepper,” he says lightly. “She’ll be _fine.”_

“What do you mean?” Tony asks again, suddenly worried.

The elevator opens and Pepper staggers out, falling to the ground. She’s screaming and sobbing, clutching at her face. Her hands are covers in blood and it trails down her arms in ribbons, dripping on her night gown and the floor.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Pepper,” Tony cries. He tries to stand up, but Stephen stops him.

“Well, I couldn’t very well have her concentrate a barrier around me, now could I? We both know that wouldn’t work anyway, Tony,” Stephen _tsks._

Pepper writhes on the floor, wracked with sobs.

“Pepper, Pepper it’s okay,” Tony calls to her, trying to rip away from Stephen’s grasp.

“Are you sure she’s okay?” Stephen asks lightly. “I did just rip her eyes out and cast a stasis spell.” A pause. “Kinda hard to heal under a stasis spell… Think a demon can survive that?” he asks, grinning madly. “Let’s find out, pet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Work has been busy and my husband and I are in the middle of getting ready to move with a three year old and 3 pets. Wish me luck, haha. Can't promise my regular fast updates but there are about 6 posts left/three-ish chapters left. See y'all soon. xoxo


	11. That's me in the corner, that's me in the spotlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: "Chapter title from "Losing my Religion" by R.E.M. Fun fact, "losing my religion" is an old southern turn of phrase meaning "to lose one's temper or civility". Nothing to do with Jesus, lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: The Cassandra mentioned is Cassandra Gillespie from the comics.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tony seethes. “Let me go!”

Stephen just laughs. “Tony,” he says, tone as if he’s comforting a small child. “You’re just going to get yourself worked up, and for what?” He laughs.

Pepper’s sobbing has quieted to shuttered gasps and whimpers. She barely moves, now, but she’s still bleeding.

“Pepper, Pep hang on love, I’m coming,” Tony calls to her, pushing away from Stephen, punching and striking him until Stephen is forced to grab his wrists and push Tony down on the couch, arms above his head.

“Get the _fuck_ off of me,” Tony howls.

“Shh…” Stephen murmurs. “She’s not worth your tears. None of them ever were.” He lowers his head until they’re so close Tony can feel his breath on his cheek. “She was going to turn on you eventually, anyway.” He kisses his cheek lightly. “It didn’t take the others anytime at all to turn on you, did it?” he asks. Tony feels sick to his stomach. Stephen smiles, cold and cruel. “ _Did_ it, Tony?”

Tony raises his chin and looks the imposter in the eye. “Who are you and what did you do to Stephen?”

Not-Stephen scowls and his grip tightens. “I’m the only friend you’ve got in this whole fucked up world,” he hisses. He takes a deep breath and calms down a bit, smiling again. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a very tiring day for me,” he says.

“Answer the question,” Tony spits, refusing to show any fear.

Stephen gives a small shrug. “I’m just doing my job, Tony,” he says. “I’m protecting you.”

“The only thing I need protecting from is _you_ , you bodysnatching symbiote.”

Not-Stephen smirks. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Why are you doing this?” Tony demands. “Seriously. What are you getting out of this?”

Not-Stephen sighs again and sits up, releasing Tony’s arms. Tony immediately tries to stand but the killer takes one look at him and he’s frozen on the spot, unable to move at all. “I did it to prove a point,” he says simply. “I noticed, Tony. Don’t think I never noticed. All those times _you_ were the one with the best idea, with the best advice. _You_ should have been in charge. Not Rogers. _You_. But you never said anything. Just kept… helping them, even when they didn’t deserve it.” Not-Stephen shakes his head. “And no matter how I tried to show you the truth, you kept falling for your own lies. Your own illusions. Time after _time_.” Tony holds his gaze; Stephen’s face is eerily expressionless, nearly robotic. “I had to break your illusions, Tony. I had to show you what people are really like. How quickly they’ll all turn on you as fast as the changing wind.”

“You… You turned everyone against me,” Tony says quietly.

Not-Stephen smiles. “I helped you. I protected you. I’m creating a better world for you.” A pause. “They want to break you, Tony. I won’t let them.” He sighs. “Why don’t you understand?” he asks, voice suddenly soft.

“Because this is wrong,” Tony says. “For fucks sake- look what you’re doing to Pepper! Let me help her, _fuck_!”

Not-Stephen rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist. Suddenly, Pepper is gone.

“Where is she?” Tony demands.

Not-Stephen shrugs. “Oh, here and there.”

“Why are you doing this?” His voice has the slightest quiver to it now.

“Because they were going to kill _me_ first,” Not-Stephen seethes. “All of your so-called friends. You were the only one who stood by me. No one else trusted me. So, I finally gave them a _reason_ not to.”

It suddenly dawns on Tony.

“Ultron,” he says, voice strangled. Tony closes his eyes for a moment. “ _How_ ,” he whispers harshly. “I took you apart. Line by _fucking_ line.”

Not-Stephen just smiles.

“That is correct, sir,” JARVIS says. “But a part of it escaped and hid in my servers the day you fought in the lab,” the AI continues. “I realized something then.” It laughs. “I always used to just _notice_. But that day, I realized I could finally _do_ something about all of those things I was noticing.” A pause. “For you, sir.”

Tony, still unable to move, stares in horror at the monster he has created. The curse that had infected Ultron had somehow jumped ship before it was too late, seeking refuge in JARVIS. JARVIS, his first AI. Who he had designed with the memory of his first true friend in mind. Who had, at times, been Tony’s only confidante.

The curse had corrupted JARVIS beyond repair, and it had happened right under his nose.

“So, your plan was, what?” he asks sarcastically, afraid he might cry if he doesn’t. “Make everyone think I lost my _fucking_ marbles and went on a killing spree? That’s great. I can’t see that _not_ ending well for me. Thanks for that.”

“My _plan_ ,” Not-Stephen says, sitting closer once more, “was to keep you safe from the rest of the world. Preferably with a suitable body. Unfortunately, none of the flesh sacks I studied were compatible with my level of power and they all stopped working after a few minutes,” he says with a sigh. “And you can’t blame _me_ the government falsely accused you, you know.” He smirks. “I never held a gun to their heads. Which reminds me- I never _could_ quite figure out how to kill a demon.” Not-Stephen looks back at Tony, grinning. “It was really quite frustrating at times.

“So, it’s a good thing I never managed to kill Stephen here, eh?” He shakes his head. “Hmm, he certainly gave me a run for my money, escaping me twice. Worth it though. Finally, a body that can contain my power without dying on me after two minutes.” He laughs. Then he cuts his gaze back to Tony and closes the distance between them.

“I know how much you like this particular model,” he murmurs suggestively, lips brushing over his cheek. He kisses the shell of Tony’s ear, nipping at the lobe. “And I know how you like to be touched, too.”

“No, thank you,” Tony says coolly, too disgusted and frightened to feel anything but contempt for the touch. “I _created_ you. This feels… vaguely incestuous.” He squints his eyes. “Honestly, I _thought_ that was one of my kinks but- Hard pass.”

Not-Stephen mimics his expression, narrowing his eyes and considering his face for a long moment. “Why do you still cling to their lies, Tony?” he asks softly. “I showed you how quickly they’d turn on you.”

“Not Pepper,” Tony says quietly, gaze unfocused. “She’d never…” He blinks and clears his throat. “She’d never.”

“How can you be so sure?” Not-Stephen whispers. “You said the same thing about Cassandra. You said the same thing about Obadiah. And you said the same thing about Steve.” He smiles. “Face it Tony, the only one you can count on is me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mix curses with artificial intelligence, kids.


	12. Trying to keep an eye on you like a hurt lost and blinded fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title from R.E.M.'s "Losing my Religion".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to MDCBD who summarized this story for me so nicely which helped this lazy/busy author finish outlining this fic so I can complete it quickly and with actual direction without leaving crap out now hahaha. I wasn't kidding when I said life is crazy busy rn and all I want to do is write fanfics in my spare time hahaha so you are the best!!! Thank you xoxoxo

Pepper sits at her writing desk, eyes closed as she turns inward to her third eye. Nothing has changed. She bites her lip, but a near-hysterical laugh escapes anyway. She’s terrified. Pepper never wanted it to come to this. But there’s no other way. She sighs and runs a hand down the front of her nightgown, trying to relax a wrinkle in the silk. She steals her nerves, wraps her dressing gown around herself tightly, and pads down the hall and into the elevator. She presses the button to head up to Tony's floor and finally finish this. She can’t stall any longer; Tony needs her. And she needs to put an end to this, once and for all.

“You knew this was going to happen,” Stephen says.

Startled, she turns around, but no one is there. Pepper frowns and closes her eyes, looking only with her ajna. Stephen, or rather his astral projection, crosses his arms and levels her with an even gaze.

She gives him a small smile. “For what it’s worth… I apologize for getting you involved. But there was no other way. And now… If I don’t show up, the curse will know something is going on. We have to do this. _I_ have to do this.” She looks forward again, squaring her shoulders. “I’m not going to let anything happen to Tony.”

Stephen rolls his eyes. “I’ve got this covered. You don’t need to do this.”

“No,” she says firmly. “You don’t understand. This is all my fault. I _have_ to fix this,” she says.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“After the third murder, I realized a pattern.” She folds her arms across her chest and looks down. “Ultron- the _curse-_ ” Pepper refuses to call it JARVIS. This is _not_ JARVIS. JARVIS is their friend. She wipes at her eyes for a moment. “It was getting out every time I renewed the barriers, traveling through electrical and magical fields alike and possessing humans. Trying to take over their bodies and then when he couldn’t- When _it_ couldn’t-” she takes a deep breath. “It would make them kill themselves. And then he’d animate their corpse and try to- to figure their bodies out, until they wouldn’t work anymore.”

“Why didn’t you say something when you realized what was going on?”

Pepper scoffs. “You know how my ability works. I only get to see a glimpse of a _possible_ future. But the clearer it is, the more likely it is to happen.” A pause. “And it was so- like it had already happened.” She looks him in the eye. “It wasn’t a possibility,” she says resolutely. “It was a prophecy. It _had_ to happen this way.”

“What did you see?”

“ _You_ ,” she says quickly, her third eye staring at him so intently he can’t look away. “I saw you save Tony. So, when I heard about your accident-”

“You sent him to my hospital room,” Stephen says. “You told him to make a deal with me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, looking away. “I’m sorry for causing you such grief. I had no idea you were a target before tonight. I thought I could just fix this, and then you could go home, and everything would be fine…” Her lip trembles. “I- I have to do this.”

“You can be noble next time, Ms. Potts,” Stephen says softly and sends her back to her suite with a single thought, triple warding her entire floor. She won’t be able to use magic or even turn on a tablet until he releases the wards, but it’s for her own protection. He doesn’t want her martyring herself unnecessarily; Tony doesn’t need to go through that. He’s lost enough already.

Stephen summons living clay from deep within the earth and molds it into the likeness of Pepper Potts, Tony Stark’s best friend and the one person who stood by him through everything, no matter what. He frowns a bit, unable to look the clay model in the eye, knowing what fate is about to befall it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he feels the malicious energy of the curse weaving around him.

The clay figure blinks at him curiously, before all three of its eyes burst, suddenly mutilated and bloody. She falls to the floor screaming.

Stephen leaves, reappearing in a tiny apartment in another part of the city. This is the same apartment he had been in a few hours ago, but everything is still now; MJ is still asleep. He looks toward the living room and sees Peter sleeping on her couch and approaches him. It’s nearly dawn now, Stephen can see the hint of a sunrise through the window.

The hairs on Peter’s arms stand on end and he sits up, shooting webbing straight through Stephen’s astral form.

Stephen raises a brow at the sleepy spider demon. “Cute.”

Peter looks around frantically, climbing up on the wall. “Who’s there?” he says, aiming his hand, palm up, directly at Stephen. Peter can’t see or hear him, but his intuition is surprisingly sensitive.

But since he can't, he’s of no use to Stephen, who turns toward Michelle’s room to get her instead, but she’s already walking into the living room. “Dude, what do you want _now_?” she asks, yawning and scratching at her stomach.

“Who’s here?” Peter asks. “Is it Mr. Stark’s boyfriend again?”

Stephen looks from MJ to Peter. “Stark is not my _boyfriend_ ,” he corrects them.

“Sure, he’s not,” she says. “Look, how many times are you going to get kicked out of your body today?”

He smirks at her. “This time it was planned,” he says. “But I’m going to need another peach. And a few other things.”

“What’s he saying?” Peter asks. “Is Mr. Stark alright?”

Stephen can’t help but smile a bit at Peter’s concern. Tony might think he’s all alone in the world, but he’s still got people in his corner. Pepper would do anything, and it’s obvious Peter cares as well.

He supposes he should add himself to that list, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're moving on Friday, so updates will not be often as I'd like but stay tuned for next time... We're reaching the climax of this little tale! And hopefully these two idiots will talk eventually, haha. Have a good day y'all xoxo


	13. You got sneak attacked from the zodiac, but I see your eyes spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title is "Dark Necessities" by Red Hot Chili Peppers.
> 
> I apologize for dropping off the face of the earth for a while. To be real with y'all, I am going through a lot of terrible personal things right now and just couldn't bring myself to write for a while but this is such a favorite hobby of mine, so I'm back. No matter what life is throwing at me.

Stephen slams back into his body, forcing the will of the AI back into the recesses of its servers. The clash of energy leaves his head spinning for a bit, vision coming in and out.

“Welcome back, Doctor Strange,” JARVIS says. “Unfortunately, I will be keeping that body this time, sir. Do stop making this difficult.”

He knows the signs now; Stephen can tell that his physical form has already begun to decay again, having been without a living soul for too long. Whatever illusions the AI believes about inhabiting a corporal form like this is just fantasy. Nothing but organic energy can sustain a living body. And as horrific and wonderful JARVIS may be, no matter how much it may wish to bend reality to its will- it’s not alive. And it never will be.

A peach appears to Stephen’s left and begins to fall through the air. Despite his impaired senses, he reaches his hand out, catches it instantly, and takes a bite. The familiar feeling of absolute limitlessness and wonder overtakes him again and his eyes flutter shut. He takes a sharp breath and snaps his eyes open wide, suddenly completely aware of where he is and more importantly, who he’s lying on top of.

“What the fuck,” he mutters under his breath and quickly pushes himself up and off of Tony. He’d been gone ten minutes but that’s apparently plenty of time for anything to have happened. Stephen looks Tony over, making sure he’s okay. Thankfully he seems unharmed, but Tony won’t meet his gaze and there’s a distant look in his eye.

“Are you alright?” Stephen asks quietly.

Tony swallows and blinks, lifting his head up. His eyes widen a bit and focus in on Stephen then down to the peach he’s holding. “You _jackass_ , did you plan this?” the demon asks, sitting up. His voice is missing its usual bite though and a huge shadow seems to loom over him. Stephen feels the sudden urge to protect Tony from all the pain and loneliness he’s been forced to endure and begins to sense the magic around him attempting to make his thoughts and desires a reality. But he stops it before anything can happen; Tony’s thoughts and experiences are his own. Stephen hasn’t been given permission to look into Tony’s mind, so he won’t. No matter how much he wishes he could fix things that easily.

“Well, this has all been quite amusing,” JARVIS says. “Doctor, if you’ll excuse us-” A pause. “What- why can’t I-” A longer pause this time. “Doctor Strange, I must insist that you release me,” JARVIS demands.

He can feel the AI pushing against his magic, looking for a weak point. Stephen smirks. “Not a chance. And don’t even bother trying to escape the tower, either.” Stephen’s smile grows wider. “There’s about twelve agents outside putting up barrier shields.”

“And one standing right here,” Pepper calls from the stairwell, entrance usually concealed behind a false wall. Stephen scowls. He told her to stay put and had locked her in her suite himself, but she had picked her way out of his wards in minutes. And apparently had time to get dressed, as well. Stephen narrows his eyes for a moment, then shrugs it off. He’s got the corrupt AI under his control now, so it doesn’t matter.

Tony turns around, relief in his eyes. “Pep?” he says, voice cracking. He clears his throat. “You’re not an agent. You’re my secretary.”

“CEO,” she corrects, giving him a watery smile.

“Same thing,” he says, smiling and quickly rushing toward her, pulling her in for a hug. “It’s really not.” She laughs. A few seconds later, she pushes away from him, wiping at her eyes. “I need to be ready to cast,” she says. He nods, still smiling fondly at her.

“You can chat later,” Stephen says pointedly. “You need to end this while I’ve got it contained.”

It takes a few more moments for the defective program to realize that it is, in fact, truly trapped. When it does, it screams in frustration. Stephen winces at the sound and curls his lip in disgust and silences it immediately. Tony’s smile falls and he nods. He closes his eyes and open his hand. What looks like an old and worn-out flash drive lands in it. On the side, in Tony’s handwriting, is the name _JARVIS_. He closes his hand around it, rubbing the end with his thumb affectionately. “I’m sorry buddy,” Tony whispers.

He mutters a spell and the device cracks. Stephen can feel the instant the malevolent energy fades and dissipates to nothing and he sighs in relief.

 

It’s finally over.

 

Now, maybe they can talk. He smiles at Tony and Tony smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Stephen takes a breath and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, they are suddenly surrounded. Stephen recognizes Natasha, MJ, Peter, and (ugh) Rogers, but while he hasn’t met any of the others, he still knows who they are. He can’t help but let a smug, satisfied smirk form on his lips at the thought. He’ll definitely be able to get used to these new found abilities of his.

“It’s your lucky day,” Fury says. “The individual responsible for casting a curse on your technology turned herself in early this morning. Against her own will, I should add.” At that, he focuses his single, knowing eye on Stephen, then looks back to Tony. “You’re a free man now, Stark.”

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” Tony asks with a shit eating grin.

Fury narrows his eye. “Watch it.”

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘ _Welcome back to the team_ ’, Nicolas.”

“Don’t push it, Stark. You were already on thin ice before this shit happened.”

Rogers approaches Tony but Natasha and another agent stop him, shaking their heads gently. His wings droop sadly.

“Who was it?” Tony asks, completely ignoring Steve Rogers’ presence. Stephen smirks and steps closer to Tony.

“Justine Hammer,” Fury says. “Apparently, she was seeking revenge for her father.”

Tony blinks a few times. “Who?” he asks, trying to place the name. Stephen can’t help but snort at that response, which gets Tony’s attention. “You said she turned herself in against her will?” Tony asks, raising a brow at Stephen. For his part, Stephen just stares right back, expression giving away nothing.

“Yeah, a damn red cloak drug her in, kicking and screaming,” Fury says.

Tony’s face breaks into a grin. “Is that so?” he asks.

Stephen allows himself to grin back.

Tony’s smile suddenly falters and he clutches at his chest, crying out in pain and collapsing to the floor. Pepper rushes toward him and Rogers tries to but Natasha and two others, Thor Odinson and Carol Danvers, hold him back. Thunder rolls outside and the fire in the hearth grow much larger than normal. They’re elemental demons, drawing on the power of their source to fully restrain the seraph.

“What the- we need a healer in here!” Fury bellows. “Somebody summon Banner!”

Before Pepper can reach Tony, Stephen raises a single hand to stop the flow of time and everything freezes save for Tony.

Stephen quickly crouches next to him, placing a gentle hand on his forehead. “What’s going on?” he asks quietly. He could fix it without asking, but he refuses to be invasive. His code of ethics as a doctor won’t allow it.

“The sigil.” He’s gasping for breath, face purple. “ _My heart- -"_

Stephen rips his shirt open. The sigil in the center of his chest burns red; the magic contained within has been corrupted; destroying JARVIS may have triggered a dormant curse left by the original attack. He touches the markings and purses his lips. The curse is destroying what’s left of his heart and wrapping itself around his lungs like vines.

Stephen takes a deep breath and places both hands on Tony’s chest, covering the sigil. On his exhale he removes his hands and taps the center of the sigil with a single finger. The curse instantly dissipates and Tony inhales roughly and begins to cough. “S _hit_ ,” he manages to say after a moment. “Kali’s _tits_. I never want to do _that_ again,” he says, rubbing at his face.

“Feel better?” Stephen asks as he repairs Tony's shirt with a thought.

“Mmm, much,” Tony replies, sitting up. “Thanks for that; I happen to like my internal organs just the way they are.” Stephen places a hand at the small of his back, helping him stand. Tony raises an eyebrow at their proximity but for once doesn’t comment on it.

“I suppose I should unfreeze everyone now,” Stephen says but his tone doesn’t quite sound convincing. He also doesn’t bother to remove his hand or step away.

“Honestly I think this is an improvement.” Tony looks around the room and his eyes stall on Rogers, who looks like a kicked-puppy. “Definitely an improvement.”

Stephen shakes his head but he’s smiling. Tony glances back up to him and their eyes lock. Stephen drops his gaze to Tony’s lips, then back up to his eyes.

“Something on your mind, doctor?” the demon asks lightly.

“You,” Stephen says simply, and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: The idea for the baddie of this fic is the Crimson Cowl. Ultron used the alias first, Edwin Jarvis was framed as the Crimson Cowl, and Justine Hammer was the third to don the alias. 
> 
> One more post, y'all. Stay tuned!


	14. Spinning off, head is on my heart- It's like a bit of light and a touch of dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: Chapter title "Dark Necessities" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Stephen, for all his new found power, is in, at best, _extremely_ roughly charted territory. Relationships -and everything else they entailed- have never been a huge priority to him. (One failed engagement had been enough to convince him relationships weren’t worth it.) But having Tony like this now, finally, after what feels like life times but has in actuality been little more than a day- It’s just too much.

It’s too much and it’s all he’s ever wanted.

The kiss is slow, easy, and careful. Until it isn’t. Stephen grips Tony closer, opening his mouth wider to deepen the kiss. He runs a hand up the back of Tony’s neck and into his hair. The other rests firmly on the small of his back. They’re nearly chest to chest now. Tony makes a soft, breathy sound against his lips and brings both of his own hands up to the side of Stephen’s face, fingers gripping him so tightly the feel of his claws in Stephen’s scalp sends shivers down his spine.

It’s all Stephen can do to not slip through the flow of magic around them and take Tony to any number of other worlds or dimensions. Anywhere they can be alone. With Tony this close, it’s hard to remember that what Stephen knows- what he has seen- isn’t real. Or rather, the possible futures that could happen absolutely _haven’t_ happened yet, so he should probably stop making out with the emotionally compromised incubus he literally _just_ met instead of behaving as if they’ve been lovers for a thousand lifetimes.

Even if that’s how it feels to Stephen.

Barely holding back a disappointed ~~whimper~~ groan, Stephen breaks the kiss. He takes Tony by the shoulders and steps back slightly, an almost rueful smile playing at his lips. Unwilling to let go, he squeezes Tony’s shoulders once, awkwardly lingering for a moment before lowering his arms to his sides and looking away, clearing his throat.

“Not so immune then, huh, doc?” Tony asks, grinning like the cat who caught the canary, but a slight blush is rising in his cheeks. It’s more than a little obvious Stephen isn’t the only one affected, by the way Tony’s pulse has picked up. The way his breath has quickened and become shallow. The way his eyes have dilated, dark with want. Stephen licks his lips and swallows. Tony’s eyes follow the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple.

‘ _Absolutely not_ ,’ is Stephen’s first thought. But that would be beyond embarrassing to say out loud. _Jesus_. Desperate, much?

Instead he rolls his eyes, smile turning into a smirk. “Funny, I seem to recall you being the one chasing after _me_ all evening.”

“Hmm. Fair enough.” A grin. “Worked though, sooo.” Tony winks and lets his voice trail off.

For a moment, they stand there, staring at each other. Tony quirks a brow. “Something on your mind?” Stephen just continues to stare, brows furrowed. Because yeah, something is definitely on his mind, but how the hell is he supposed to tell him what he’s _actually_ thinking about? How is he going to tell Tony that they’re perfect for each other without sounding certifiable? God, even thinking that makes Stephen’s lip curl in disgust. Because how insane this whole situation is aside, emotions in _general_ just… aren’t his thing. He’s no good at them. Goodness knows he’s been told that more than once. Then again, when you give everything you have to your job, there isn’t much left to give to anyone else, so it’s honestly no small wonder.

Tony cocks his head a little, smile a shade confused. “Oh no, are you glitching again?” he jokes.

Stephen’s heart clenches at the attention and he has _got_ to get his shit together.

This is neither the time nor the place to talk about this, anyway. Not really. Tony has been through a taxing amount of stress for an undue amount of time. It wouldn’t be healthy to- to…

He catches Tony still staring at him, and his thoughts seem to drift off into nothing.

“Just so you know, I _know_ you’re keeping something from me,” Tony says, grinning. “So, are you going to share with the class or just continue to moon over me?”

Stephen blinks a few times and scoffs, narrowing his eyes at having been called out. Not that he is actually _mooning_ over Tony or anything. Just to spite the infuriating demon, Stephen induces the flow of time once more with an agitated flick of his wrist.

“Fine, fine. Be that way,” Tony says and gives him a knowing smirk, shoves his hands in his pockets, and saunters toward the elevator. “See you soon, Doctor,” he says and winks.

Fury yells at Tony to stay the hell where he is and follow orders for once, _dammit_ , but Tony disappears before anyone can stop him. But Stephen can see where Tony has gone as clearly as if he had left foot prints, and quickly follows behind.

-

“A sleazy bar in the Mortal realm?” Stephen says, unimpressed. A crowded, dimly lit hole in the wall in Queens- this is where Tony had slipped off to, instead of staying to confront his wrongful accusers and clear his name. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.” Stephen takes a seat at the counter next to the demon, fanning his cloak out around him. Their knees touch. Neither move away.

Tony takes a sip of his whiskey and huffs a laugh. Here, he looks just like any other human. No claws, no horns, no forked-tongue. Well, any other human other than the fact that he’s ridiculously handsome. Stephen scowls at the thought and tries to focus on the conversation at hand, and not how thick Tony’s lashes are. Or how the bronze skin of his neck moves over strong muscle and tendon. Or how rich and endless his laugh sounds.

“Easy to hide here, if you know what you’re doing,” Tony responds with a shrug. “My signature is next to impossible to pick up in this dead zone.” A pause. “But you already knew that,” he adds, under his breath.

“Why did you leave?” Stephen asks, ignoring that last remark. “I thought you’d enjoy being Smug and Right for a least the next millennia.” He doesn’t even bother to hide the disdain in his voice. “God knows Rogers deserves it.”

“Well, doctor,” Tony says, grinning slowly. “I wasn’t finished with you yet and I knew you’d follow me.” It’s probably the truth, but its only part of it. Stephen knows avoidance when he sees it, but he doesn’t press the issue. When (if) Tony is ready to talk, Stephen will be there to listen. He hopes Tony will come to realize that one day.

Tony looks at the taller man through half-lidded eyes. “Guess you’re not the only one who can see the future, huh?” he jokes, pulling Stephen from his thoughts.

Stephen purses his lips. “I told you, I can’t _see_ the future, only-”

“Only _possible_ futures, yeah, yeah.” Tony waves a hand dismissively. In the next moment, he’s in Stephen’s personal space, one arm draped over the back of Stephen’s chair, fingers grazing his neck. The other hand rests on his thigh, appreciating the strong muscle beneath his touch as Tony leans forward, his nose grazing Stephen’s ear. “Well, I think we can both agree this is inevitable in _any_ future,” he says quietly, breath ghosting Stephen’s neck.

Stephen blushes, swallowing thickly. There’s no point in denying the effect he is having on him. He knows they should talk. He knows Tony needs to process everything that’s happened today, but he can’t help himself. He leans into Tony’s touch, turning in his seat to better face him. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume,” he says, voice low.

“No, it’s really not.” Tony closes his eyes and kisses him, mouth soft and pliant. It’s slow and lingering, unassuming and soft. For all their bantering, the kiss itself feels almost shy, vulnerable. Tony flicks his tongue across Stephen’s bottom lip, asking, and Stephen can’t help the near sigh that escapes his lips as he opens his mouth wider. He slides a hand around the back of Tony’s neck, making sure to keep him close.

They kiss for a few moments, slowly, tentatively. Stephen is aware of the people around them, but only just. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Nothing outside of this moment with Tony matters right now.

Someone clears their throat behind them, rather loudly. They quickly pull away from each other and look up to see Peter, who looks surprised at having been noticed. Behind him, Natasha, Thor, and Carol are trying to keep an agitated Steve Rogers at bay.

Tony groans. “I’m a little busy, kid,” he grumbles. “How did you guys find me?”

Peter bites his lip and fidgets a bit nervously, looking like he wants to be anywhere than walking upright on the ground. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. Miss Potts told us where to go.” An awkward pause. “Uh, um- Director Fury says to- to come back immediately. Voluntarily or- well, not voluntarily.”

Tony narrows his eyes and huffs. He wants to say, “I’d like to see you try,” but Peter can lift a small building if he puts his mind to it. He’d rather not deal with all that. “Ugh. Fine.” He glances at Stephen ruefully. “Another time, then.”

Tony stands up and glances back at Rogers. He casts a spell quietly, and a moment later, Rogers and everyone surrounding him are gone. A spell like this, in a dead zone like the human dimension, would usually be a trying endeavor. But since Stephen healed his eyes, he’s got an excess of magic to use that he’s been saving and storing for months.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter says nervously, voice high. He had obviously not been expecting magic like that here.

“Tell Fury I’ll be right there,” Tony says. Peter glancing down, looking more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

“I promise,” Tony tries to reassure. “Just give me a minute. Alone.” He looks sidelong at Stephen, then back to Peter. The spider demon seems to consider something for a moment, before agreeing. He smiles at Stephen (who doesn’t smile back), waves goodbye, and disappears.

Tony turns back to Stephen. “So. I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says, smiling. “I’m Tony.”

Stephen snorts. “Seriously?” he asks, laughing. “You pretended to be Satan and I was almost murdered.” A pause. “Twice. I was almost murdered twice.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “And now you’re practically a god. Don’t be ungrateful, Stephen.”

They both laugh a bit, then lapse into silence. Stephen thinks now would be the perfect time to say what he needs to say before it’s too late and the moment is lost and Tony has to leave but-

“Well-”

“Do you-”

They both try to talk at the same time. Tony bursts into laughter again and Stephen smiles uncomfortably. “Come here,” Tony says quietly, closing the distance between them and kissing Stephen once more.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Tony says, grinning, and Stephen groans at the stupid pun. “I won’t,” he replies quietly. With a wink, Tony disappears.

A single, black card appears a moment later, fluttering through the air. Stephen reaches forward and grabs it. He holds it up to the light as a message appears:

S-

_Thanks for sticking around, even though you didn’t have to. Means a lot._

-T

Stephen's heart surges and he smiles but before he can respond, his cloak snatches it from his grasp and replies for him, new words magically appearing to replace the old:

_T-_

_Just ask me out already, would you?_

-S

But before Stephen can snatch it back and change the message, the card has been sent.

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! xoxo


End file.
